USUK Drabble Calendar: September 2014
by 365daysofUSUK
Summary: A drabble a day for more USUK! The file for the USUK Drabble Calendar, the month of September in the year of 2014.
1. 1st of September

**AUTHOR: tophatviolet**

**1st of September 2014 - Labor Day**

For most of the nation, the first Monday of September was just like any other day. The difference had been a few people got the day off work and women talked of what not to wear. Good Morning America commented on the date, told it's viewers, "Happy Labor Day." and the day rolled on all but abnormally.

England had guessed that America had the day off, as he had invited him over to spend the day with him, It had been a rare treat that they had a day where both of them could relax together. So when he arrived and found that America had not waited for him he was more than a little puzzled and even worried. He asked the few people around what the issue might be only to find that America had left an address for him.

The address was a McDonald's and England really shouldn't have been surprised. He expected to see America with an order already on the table. However, he looked around and realized that that wasn't the case. How strange. Arthur, unsure of what to do, walked up to the registers an inquired about the possible presence of a blonde man. The young adult girl at the counter smiled brightly at him with a look that suggested she knew just who he needed.

"Ah, so you're the one he'd been talking about!" She said with a nod and a wink before she turned to grab someone from just around the corner. Of all the things England had expected, America in the black and yellow striped uniform of the restaurant was not one of them.

The nation gave the young adult girl a one armed hugged and thanked her for the alert before he stepped out from behind the counter and ushered England over to a table in the corner that they could sit at without being interrupted.

"America, are you..working?" England asked shocked. "You told me you didn't have work today and why here of all places?!" He didn't understand. What was America up to this time. The other nation just looked at him amused however, as if he had expected these questions.

"Well, I didn't really! When I talked to you yesterday I didn't have any plans except to watch movies all day on the couch with you. Honest." America started. He looked rather wistful as if he had looked forward to those things. England waited for further explanation. He would know when America was finished and it wasn't that time yet. He watched as America fiddled with his shirt and gathered his thoughts in a way that was awfully adorable and he loved to see.

"I was walking by one of my senators this morning though and he was talking about how he couldn't go out of town for the weekend with his family because his daughter couldn't get out of work." America continued. England slowly nodded as if he understood where this had gone. "So I sort of offered to take her place for the day."

America looked embarrassed. He wouldn't meet England's eyes as if afraid he might be angry with him. England couldn't have been less angry as it turned out. He slowly reached across the table to take one of America's hands in his own and gave it a light squeeze. There was a discreet smile on his face even as America gradually looked up.

"I am so proud of you." England said quietly as he refused to let go of America's hand even though the other protested that England was being overly sentimental. America laughed soon after though, very small happy tears in the corner of his eyes as he wiped them away with his free hand.

"It's not that big of a deal!" He said through hiccups as England moved to sit on the same side of the table as him. "I just, wanted to give back a little. I didn't want to ruin our day either though!"

England shook his head and leaned over to kiss America's cheek as he doted on the younger nation affectionately. "You are the kindest, most thoughtful person I know. I hardly think this ruins our day and you certainly made one of your citizens very happy I'm sure. You give much more than you realize."

America turned his head to look at England in a puzzled way and England knew by now that is what America does when he looked for confirmation from him. It was hard not to roll his eyes but it also endeared America to him somehow.

"You do, now stop making a fuss. I'll be right here and when you're done working we'll go back to your place and relax. How does that sound?" England asked.

"That sounds fantastic!" America replied his usual energetic self returned just as quickly as it had been dampered. He managed to catch England off guard as he moved to stand. He picked England up , just enough to get his toes off the floor, and spun him once before he sat him down again and returned to behind the counter where a small line of people waited.

England waved from his seat as he composed himself and made himself comfortable. He watched America work and really it was almost just like any other day. England didn't mind one bit, not when America worked hard to give his own citizens a day off.


	2. 2nd of September

**AUTHOR: animeXalchemist**

**2nd of September, 2014 - Pop!**

_Pop_.

"Jones, for the love of the Queen, is that really necessary?" student council president Arthur Kirkland asked, looking at the jock forlornly.

_Pop_.

"Seriously, don't bloody test me," he said through ground teeth, picking up a hardback tome of some of Shakespeare's plays and brandishing it threateningly. Alfred just grinned in a way that just _dared_ him to inflict pain. Oh that bastard. He just wanted to get him in trouble. Well no, he wouldn't fall for it. His record would remain spotless, and he would teach Jones this syllabus as quickly as possible and then he would never need to see him ever again.

_Pop_.

Christ, his teacher better appreciate this effort! No extra credit was worth this torture.

"Jones, for the last tim-"

_Pop_.

"YOU USELESS OAF! STOP POPPING THAT SODDING GUM THIS INSTANT! YOU'RE NOT EVEN ALLOWED THAT IN THE BLOODY LIBRARY!" he yelled in pure frustration, standing up so that he towered over the idiot who was casually leaning back in his seat and looking thoroughly amused. When the librarian shouted at Arthur and told him to shut his mouth, they were in a library, the git even burst out laughing.

"Geez, you should calm down before you hurt yourself, dude," Alfred grinned.

Arthur sat down and crossed his arms, half-glaring-half-pouting at the various books sprawled out across the desk they were sitting at (because they sure as hell weren't getting any work done).

_Pop_.

"Oh my god, why even bother asking for a tutor if you're not even going to co-operate?" he groaned, letting his head fall against the desk as he felt the will to live slowly slipping away.

"I don't care about that stuff," Jones said, blasé, as he carried on that obnoxious chewing of his. "My parents were the ones that called the school asking for extra tuition. Don't really see the point. I'm on track for a sports scholarship, so grades don't matter to me."

"You are a prat," Arthur said dryly.

"Whatever ya say, darlin'," the jock drawled, even throwing in a wink, which was really the last straw. How inappropriate!

"All right, let me try this again: Jones, you are going to sit your arse in that chair properly, no leaning backwards on it like a child, you are going to stop chewing and popping that bubble gum of yours, and you are going to listen to the lessons I am going to teach you."

"Oh am I?" Alfred grinned, "And you plan on making me do that how, exactly?"

"By telling you," Arthur said simply. "And if you fail to co-operate, I'll _make_ you. I can be very persuasive."

"No offence dude, but you don't intimidate me, and I ain't gonna do what you say. Yeah you've got this reputation of being, like, Satan or something," (Arthur rolled his eyes at such a ridiculous notion), "But all I see is a grumpy guy who doesn't know how to have fun." And, just to add insult to injury, another pink bubble appeared between his lips.

_Pop_.

"That's it," Arthur practically growled, standing up once more. Alfred was snickering at his reactions, but that soon stopped as soon as Arthur neatly swung one leg over Jones's lap so that he was straddling him. Instead of snickering, Alfred's eyes had widened. Ah, that stupefied look was much more preferable, Arthur thought.

He smirked and snaked a hand around the back of Alfred's head, tangling his fingers into golden locks and moving so that their faces were mere centimetres apart. Jones was far from laughing at this stage. He looked terribly confused and was progressively turning a rather fetching shade of red.

"You are going to behave yourself," Arthur commanded, and before Alfred could even try to formulate a response, the supposedly straight-laced, by-the-book president leant in and stole a kiss. But it wasn't a chaste kiss or even a little kiss. Oh no, it was a kiss so intense and domineering that Alfred gasped in surprise (because what the hell was going on?! This isn't the sort of thing you'd expect a guy like stick-in-the-mud _Kirkland_ to be doing) and Arthur's tongue skilfully manoeuvred itself into the now open space without seeking any sort of permission.

Alfred let out a noise that sounded a lot like a moan, though he would vehemently deny this later (in fact, he would doubt the whole thing had even happened), and then as soon as this whole weird experience had been initiated, it was over. The Brit broke the kiss, got up, and sat back down in his own place as if nothing had happened at all, much less in a public place.

Alfred, dazed and flustered and trying to control his crazily beating heart (that really wasn't the sort of reaction he expected to have from being kissed by a dude, especially a dude like Kirkland), was only vaguely aware that something seemed… off.

"What was…?" He tried to form a coherent sentence, but he couldn't manage much because his breath hitched when Arthur looked at him in a way that could only be described as _smouldering_ and his lips were set in a confident smirk. And only when Alfred was looking at those lips that had been on his did he notice that the other was chewing. Then, from between those infuriatingly alluring lips, a pink bubble was blown. Alfred, already beginning to comprehend what had happened but still needing confirmation, searched his own mouth with his tongue and realised that it was empty.

Emerald eyes were nothing but amused and seemed to shine with even more mirth as the pink bubble came closer to the jock's face.

_Pop_.


	3. 3rd of September

**ARTIST: shoe (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: empressvegah**

**3rd of September, 2014 - When He's Gone**

"I think it's time we live separately."

Arthur stopped typing from his laptop, unable to believe his ears. Did he hear what his husband just said to him correctly? He attempted to gather his thoughts and emotions, but no matter how hard he tried, his heart was beating so fast against his chest, anxiety welling up. The lump on his throat was becoming heavier it was starting to suffocate him. Blinking back the sting from his eyes, he finally managed to compose himself enough to turn around and face Alfred F. Jones.

Alfred looked weary, the lines on his face already starting to show. The creases on his forehead were more prominent now, Arthur noted worriedly. Poor darling, was he so busy with work? Even his beautiful face was frowning, the writer thought absently.

"L-Love? What's the matter?" Arthur asked shakily, his hand unconsciously went to touch the band on his left ring finger, nervously twisting it. For all the years they'd spent together, Alfred was normally goofy and full of jokes, but lately he seemed to be in foul mood and he didn't talk to him as often as he did before. His brain was still processing what made Alfred say those words that sounded so foreign to him. 'Live separately?' What did he mean by that? Arthur needed more than just a sentence to make him understand what Alfred was telling him.

_Maybe it's a joke_ — he nervously glanced at the calendar, but it was the fourth of October. Nowhere near April. His heart sped up. His mouth had gone dry. Alfred's blue eyes didn't give the same warmth as before. His mouth that used to bear such a beautiful smile was now forming a thin line. His posture seemed rigid. How… how did he miss this?

He saw Alfred swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with the motion. "Arthur, I think we need some time apart from each other. I love my career as much as you love yours, and things aren't looking well for me. Since we've moved here, people are starting to _think_ that I'm not the respectable doctor they knew, just because they keep on seeing us together," he explained with a wince. Arthur's shaking hand sought for the backrest of his chair, needing any form of support. He was using _Arthur,_ not his blasted yet endearing nicknames. _No,_ he pleaded mentally, _I don't like where this is going._

"Arthur, you understand me, right? Just some time apart, that's all," Alfred's tone was begging. He was making a face that even with the years they'd been together, Arthur was still not immune to. But his face this time was traced with so much stress, and it seemed to Arthur that his dear Alfred was on his limits as well.

"But… _why?_" Arthur found his voice breaking when he asked; he still couldn't understand why Alfred would ask him something like this. It's like… It's the same with _breaking up_ and suddenly the silver band on his ring finger weighed like lead, he wanted to fling it away from his person.

Alfred took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Arthur, it has always been my dream to become a great doctor someday. And I really want to be one whom my colleagues acknowledge and look up to. I want to be a fellow of the ACP, and my colleagues have to recommend me. I can't be recommended if the people doubt my abilities just because… we're…" he left the sentence hanging, shrugging; yet Arthur could see that the situation was also hurting his darling.

Arthur looked down and fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. What Alfred was asking from him hurt, but he couldn't just hinder Alfred's dream of achievement in the field of Internal Medicine, specializing in Nephrology. It was all he ever wanted since they'd started dating way back then. He met Alfred during their early 20s, and he was already overflowing with his dream of becoming a well-respected Nephrologist. It was all his Alfred ever wanted…

_But what about me?_

The green-eyed man wanted to ask his husband so badly, but his throat constricted with the lump building fast, and he couldn't utter a sound. His lips trembled with effort not to show Alfred just how much he was hurting, but he knew it was a futile attempt. He couldn't hide the wetness in his eyes, nor the shaking of his hands.

He had loved Alfred for ten years already, and even the years had gone by, he couldn't refuse Alfred. Especially when his dearest husband was struggling, hurting. It was better to be hurt alone than to have Alfred suffering with his selfishness. After all, it was him who had tied Alfred to this marriage. It was his persuasion that chained Alfred to him, so who was he to stop the handsome, promising doctor from pursuing his dream?

"I –" Arthur's voice cracked, and he swallowed yet again to give himself time for what he was about to say.

"G-Give me a moment to think," he said in a rush as he quickly fled from his study, the first drops of tears finally falling from his eyes. He couldn't hold them in anymore. He tried to head towards their shared bedroom, only to realize that it was no longer _his_ sanctuary. Arthur ran all the way to the bathroom and shut himself in, making sure the door was locked before sliding down to the floor.

He finally allowed himself to cry, because he knew that his answer to Alfred's pleading would always be a _yes._


	4. 4th of September

**AUTHOR: corey5268**

**4th of September, 2014**

Matthew Williams loved his older brother, he really did. He appreciated Alfred taking him in after their parents died, despite being fresh out of college and in the middle of his first teaching job. Matthew knew that his brother would die for him, and he knew that he'd do the same, but damn, having him as a teacher could be uncomfortable.

Matthew knew what he was getting into when he signed up for Humanities. He knew that it was the only class in the school taught by two teachers at the same time. He knew that the other teacher was his brother's best friend, Arthur Kirkland. Arthur was over their house all the time. He's seen how they act around each other. He's heard the rumors. He just never thought it would be this bad.

The room was dark when he walked into his fourth period Humanities class. Arthur had his back turned, apparently editing the powerpoint that was projected onto the board. Alfred, on the other hand, was spinning around in a chair in the front of the room, concentrating deeply on a piece of chalk that was in his hand. Matthew took his seat in the third row, and waited for his brother to stop spinning.

"Hello, Matthew." Arthur said, eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Good morning, Arthur."

"Ah!" Alfred rose from his chair, and started writing on the board. "Hey, Mattie! You cool with Indian food for dinner tonight?" Interestingly enough, all Alfred wrote on the board was 'May 25.'

"Sounds good." The doorknob clicked twice, and another student walked in the room.

"What do you want, Arthur?" Arthur 'hmmm'ed and turned away from the powerpoint.

"Butter chicken?"

"You can't get butter chicken. I want butter chicken!" Arthur tried to hide his grin.

"And why can't we both have butter chicken?" A few more students took their seats.

"Because!"

"Because you're an insufferable glutton who always steals part of my meal?" Arthur gave up on hiding his grin.

"Exactly!" Alfred laughed. "Don't pretend that you don't steal mine too. If you got butter chicken, you'd ruin the sanctity of food-stealing." Arthur snickered.

"Whatever you say, love." He said. "I'll get chicken tikka masala."

"Thanks, sweetheart. Knew you'd see it my way." The terms of endearment had come into use a few weeks ago. A girl in the front row had informed the teachers that they tended to act like they're married, so they decided to prove her right. Matthew had learned, over those few weeks, that the reappearance of the pet names usually meant danger.


	5. 5th of September

**AUTHOR: Angie Garcia**

**5th of September, 2014**

England smiled staring at the clear pond, his reflection as perfect as can be. A blue skinned, pink haired fairy came up to him and whispered something to him.

"That would be nice but there is no point dear. America is blinded by the science of man which has made him impure. If only, if only. One could only hope."

The fairy pouted and flew away.

England sighed and sat down near the pond. He saw a butterfly flying freely. Smiling he held out a finger, which the butterfly happily accepted.

The wind's breeze got stronger and England just laughed. Soon night time came and he laid on the grass making no effort to get up and go back home.

* * *

When England woke up he saw himself in his room.

Was everything just another dream?

As he started to ponder about the new 'memories', a hard, loud knock was heard.

Soon America came in a little unpleased, carrying a tray of tea and a plate of scones.

"What's next? You're gonna sleep in a parking lot? You're lucky I was even in that forest."

England rolled his eyes and took a look at the scones.

"You made these?"

"Yeah."

England bit the scone and sipped his tea. He sighed and looked out the window. He saw the fairies flying around the window and Flying Mint Bunny near the desktop, sleeping. He smiled and kept looking at the bunny.

"Yello? Earth to England? He-llo?...Hmmm...Your scones taste like shit!"

England snapped out of his trance and bit his lip.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say bloody wanker."

"Dude why were you looking at the desktop?"

"Because Fl-...Because it looked clean," England lied.

If he said he saw a green, winged bunny America would think he was crazy, just like all the other times.

"Ok then. So what do you wanna do today?"

England got out of bed and simply replied,

"Let's go for a walk."

* * *

England held America's hand, looking at all the fairies and gnomes. He felt like crying.

Were all these things just figment of his imaginations? Was he really the only one that could see these critters? Was he just already insane?

* * *

America stopped walking and grabbed England by the wrists.

"What is wrong with you today? You're spacing out and you seem depressed. What's wrong?"

Sighing, England looked to stare at his boyfriend. He felt fear clutch him as he opened his mouth.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

The question caught America off guard. America stared at the older nation. If it weren't for the dead and sad looking eyes, America would have laughed himself all the way back to the States.

"I-I...w-why...o-of course not. Why would you say that?" He sputtered.

"Because of the fantasies I see."

America's heart almost skipped a beat. This bull crap again? Groaning, America shook his head. No no no, not this. Whenever England started to talk about fairies, America would always think there was something wrong going on.

"E-England I...I won't lie to you ok? Sometimes I do think you might have hit your head-"

"I knew it."

"Ah! No no no! Let me finish! Then again that could just be me. Look, people, uh I mean nations, have different insights, outlooks, interpretations, and explanations of life. I relatively stick to science, laws, theories, rarely anything beyond those boundaries unless proven. Like fairies! Unless there were scientific evidence besides books and children's movies, I wouldn't label them as real. That's how I see life. It revolves around science and pure facts, give or take some things. You see life the same way an innocent child does-"

"Not really America, don't forget how old I am."

"Don't forget I'm talking. Anyways you like to look at life through child like stories. That's how you understand it. So just because I think you're crazy doesn't mean you are. Trust me In pretty sure I have some more loose bolts then you..."

England laughed, and nodded his head. Slipping his hand into America's they continued to walk down the path. America kept complaining about the insects on his neck, while England merely laughed.

After all, there wasn't a bug in this enchanted forest. Just fairies.


	6. 6th of September

**Author: JustEastOfEccentric**

**6th of September, 2014**

I am shades of green and gray and dusky purple, and you are shades of brilliant blues and blinding yellows; oranges and reds dance around you, energy breathing in and out.

You are something untouchable, and yet you're right here...

Alfred F. Jones, you persistent little bugger, do you not know that green and red, and yellow and purple contradict each other on the colour wheel? That gray washes out every other colour?

Do you not see?

My only vibrant colours are the green shades of envy, spite, and greed. I want it all, Jones, and you just seem to want to hand it over. I am also cautious shades of gray, colours which were once vibrant painted over to ensure safety; you don't stand out with dull colours. I know that this isn't a good idea. Dusky purple, somewhere between sorrow and rage, and I cannot allow it to touch the dazzling cobalt or breathtaking sky of your blues. It is too easy for them to fall to the washed out steel of despair.

You deserve someone with dazzling youth and sensual colours, reds and pinks that sing like flames and lullabies.

But, Alfred... I am loathe to admit, you have wiggled your way under the gray of my protection and have touched the dusk sky that is the emotions I feel.

"You really like colours, don't you Artie?" You smiled then, all teeth, and blue and blond and youth and happiness.

"Colours speak more than words ever can, Alfred." I didn't smile, I never smile, all washed out colours and the purple of those who were once entitled to crowns and jewels but that too washed out... And the green... the green of my drive, emeralds and tea leaves and snarls and motives. Not needs or even desires, but a driven need to own and destroy. Greed and jealousy.

"What colours am I?" You were flashing in shades of red and orange with blue lurking under the surface.

"...Blue, blue like the sky and and the deep waters, yellow like canaries and the birds of song, and orange and red like fire and passion." I looked away, cheeks flaring a familiar red.

"Whoa! You always make stuff sound so pretty, Arthur! What about your colours?" You took my hand, and gripped it, and I was about to pull away when your grip tightened, "You wanna know what I see? I can't say it all pretty like you can but... I see green, like emeralds..." You stared into my eyes... and I felt myself tremble. "like budding life... I see purple and red, like royalty and... and, gosh, I don't know Arthur! Drive! Drive and passion and and... love."

I stared at you.

And you stared back.

And I wonder if your colours didn't mix with mine... if they didn't create a painting, but...

"Y-you idiot!" I pulled away, turning on my heel and marching away, "Th-that was ridiculous! Do I look like a middle aged woman who you can simply whoo with such... such ... with that!"

"But Artie! You're almost like a middle aged woman... Got the middle aged down, and you knit-"

"Alfred F. Jones! One more word, and I swear, I'll-!"

You smiled at me, something shining in your eyes, blue and yellow and happiness.

I was smiling too.


	7. 7th of September

**AUTHOR: Teenage Mouse**

**7th of September, 2014**

The clock on Arthur's wrist had been ticking steadily since the day he was born, the background music of his life. It wasn't a very interesting sound, but the never ending _tick-tick-tick_ of the countdown was soothing and safe, and Arthur liked soothing and safe.

Like everyone else on the planet, Arthur had a clock embedded into his wrist that counted down until the moment he'd meet his soul-mate. It was a symbol of something magical and exciting in years to come, but to Arthur it also represented order and promise: an ancient fact of life, a pre-determined future set in stone, as reliable as the unbroken tick of the clock's hands. He was always mocked for his logical approach to his watch, but Arthur didn't mind. Love would come when the countdown reached 0, so there was no point going starry-eyed over imaginary soul mates until then. For now, he would look to his watch for encouragement, when he needed the drive to work towards his future or a reminder that this hectic world _did _have some sense of order sometimes.

So relaxed was Arthur Kirkland in his approach to his soul mate clock that by the time it had reached 0 years, 0 weeks, 0 days, 0 hours, 5 minutes, 52 seconds, he hadn't even noticed. It was the first day of school, and he'd been too busy that week to check his watch very often. He knew that his time was up soon, but he figured he'd know when the moment came. No use glancing at his watch every five seconds of the day when he had a hoard of new 11-year-olds traipsing through the door of his classroom, ready to make the year a misery if he didn't show them who was in charge.

"Good morning, everyone!" Arthur called over the excited babbling as the children settled in at their new desks. "Welcome to grade 6. I'm Mr. Kirkland, and I'll be your new teacher this year. I know most of you already since you're the oldest ones in school now," – a few of his students beamed happily, loving their position as the top dogs in school after all these years – "and I'm sure you didn't want to be in this class because everyone thinks I'm such a scary teacher."

The students' faces fell as they glanced guiltily at Arthur, and at each other. Arthur didn't mind – he knew his reputation amongst the students, and it wasn't like it was undeserved.

"But you know, I'm only scary if you're a _naughty_ student," Arthur continued. "You're in grade 6 now, and you're the biggest kids in school – that's why I expect so much from you. When you act like a kindergartner, _that's_ when I get scary. But if you act like the mature students you are, then you'll find out I'm actually really nice."

Some of them nodded, heads held high, determined to prove how grown up they were. Of course there was the one student who had to make a fart sound, but Arthur had known exactly what kind of student Yong Soo would be, so he'd assigned the boy a seat at the front of the class. He eyed the Korean student, and Yong Soo wiped the smirk off his face as he realised he'd been found out.

"Now then," Arthur went on. "We have a new student joining us this year. Alfred Jones? Would you please stand up?"

Arthur's eyes turned to the new face as the boy stood up at his desk. He had a wide smile and a confident attitude, so Arthur was sure he'd have no trouble making friends. What was more, he also had a cheeky twinkle in his bright blue eyes, which was something Arthur liked to see in his students on occasion. He loved his mature, sensible children, of course, but there was just something about the class clown that he had to admire. Life would be so boring without them, after all.

"Would you like to introduce yourself, Alfred?"

Alfred nodded enthusiastically and stood up tall. "Hi, my name's, Alfred F. Jones and I – "

A clattering sound and a gasp at the front of the room interrupted his speech, and everyone's heads turned toward the teacher's desk.

Arthur stood there, clutching his wrist and staring down in horror at the clock that was spinning slowly on his desk. It revolved for several long, silent seconds, teetering on its fine edge like a spinning top. Then it fell to the desk, face up. The time read "0" and the hands had stopped ticking.

Arthur's whole body grew hot, and his blood pounded in his ears like a war drum. He was sure that everyone in the school could hear it, and they'd come running to see what had happened and then they'd be disgusted…

"Mr. Kirkland! Your watch!"

Arthur's head snapped towards Yong Soo, who was pointing and smiling excitedly. Suddenly everyone was on their feet, craning to get a look at the bare space on Arthur's wrist and the clock sitting lonely and forlorn on his desk top.

"But there's no other grown-ups in the room?" a student named Elizabeta piped up. "Why did it fall off?"

Arthur couldn't help it. He looked at Alfred out of reflex, and suddenly twenty-six pairs of eyes lit up in realisation and snapped towards the new kid.

The American boy just stared at Arthur, looking more dumbstruck than horrified. Eventually he rolled back the sleeve of his hoodie and a small, round clock fell out.

"I…I didn't even notice. I didn't feel it come off." Alfred looked up at Arthur, eyebrows drawn up in what looked like guilt, bless him. "I knew it was today, but I thought it would be some girl in class and I didn't really care, so I just forgot about it after the bell rang."

Arthur nodded absent-mindedly. It made him dizzy.

"Mr. Kirkland, how come your soul-mate is our age and you're an adult?"

"Yeah, that's weird. How can you marry Alfred if he's just a kid."

"My mom said her friend's soul-mate was really old and her parents wouldn't let them see each other. They had to move away."

Hushed whispers swept around the room, with Arthur and Alfred at the centre like they were in the middle of a whirlpool.

Arthur's body shook. He was a split second away from crying in complete despair and horror.

But then he noticed some students looking at him in concern, and shook his head to dispel the panic. He couldn't let the children think he was scared, because he didn't want them thinking he had any _reason_ to be worried. He didn't like little boys that way. And if Alfred's clock had fallen off, too, that meant…they really were meant to be together in some way. It didn't mean Arthur was some old pervert, it meant that they had both found a kindred spirit. It wasn't like they had to fall in love right now. They had just found each other, that was all.

"Not all soul-mates get married and fall in love," Arthur explained, all the children watching him with rapt attention. "It's rare, but for some people a soul-mate is just a special friend who means a lot in your life. I'm sure…that must be what this is."

"Yeah! I bet that's it! You're just gonna be bffs!" Yong Soo exclaimed, as if a 26-year-old teacher and an 11-year-old student being best friends were the most natural thing in the world.

Once more, excited chatter filled the classroom, and the sound actually made Arthur feel at home. It brought normalcy back to his classroom, and helped him stand straight and regain his composure. He looked towards Alfred, begging the boy's forgiveness for ruining his life.

"So…we can't get married one day?" Alfred asked.

Arthur choked and looked down at his desk. He couldn't face Alfred: it would be a long time before he felt comfortable around the boy after this, and after all the drama he was sure to face once the news got out. He'd have to tell the staff at school, talk to Alfred's parents, hopefully he wouldn't get fired or investigated by the police…

He couldn't help who his soul-mate was.

Then again, neither could poor Alfred.

"I don't know. We'll have to see," Arthur finally replied.

"Um, Mr. Kirkland…what's your first name?"

Arthur looked up, eyes wide. Alfred was looking up at him with a warm, nervous half-smile, and Arthur's heart went out to him, the poor boy. He was in for a rough time, too.

"It's Arthur."

Alfred's smile brightened and he looked down at his desk, hiding a pink blush that lit up his freckled cheeks. Arthur smiled fondly at him. It was sweet. He didn't feel anything for Alfred, of course, but it made him smile to see the boy's reaction, to know that Alfred, at least, didn't hate him.

"Nice to meet you…Arthur."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Alfred."

And he really meant it, despite all the drama he was certain lay ahead of them.


	8. 8th of September

**AUTHOR: separatetables**

**8th of September, 2014**

Arthur dreams.

There are stars beneath his eyelids and he sees a boy with golden hair and eyes the colour of the sky.

'Will you come with me?' the boy asks each time. Arthur laughs, tells him that he can't and the boy ducks his head, looking disappointed. It's always the same, and sometimes Arthur flicks the boy playfully on the forehead with his fingers. The boy glares at him, eyes narrowing beneath his glasses but he's never angry with Arthur for long. They lie together, on an endless field of impossibly green grass, looking up at the sky.

In the morning, when Arthur wakes, he feels a strange sense of loss. There's an inexplicable ache in his chest, like someone had carved out his heart, slowly, held it in their hands and crushed it before trying to put it all back together again. Sometimes he feels like he has been made and unmade and it doesn't make sense. He rubs at his eyes, goes to school as per normal and tries not to fall asleep while the lecturer goes on and on about Middlemarch.

Arthur draws.

The margins of his notebooks are usually filled with doodles of everyday objects. The figure of the student sitting in front of him, someone's bag leaning against their legs, his pencil case on his desk... Yet lately, there're sketches of a boy. Glasses, wide smile and eyes that are impossible to capture.

He sees the boy in his dreams, yet when he's awake, it's far too difficult to recall.

(But he hears it loud and clear sometimes, when he's alone, come fly with me let's fly let's fly away, in Frank Sinatra's voice leaving that boy's lips, his outstretched hand beckoning Arthur to let go let go let go)

Arthur dreams.

This time, when the boy asks, Arthur nods. He grabs the boy's hand and the boy grins, licking his lips. Arthur stares, transfixed, breathless.

'I'm Alfred. What's your name?'


	9. 9th of September

**AUTHOR: Akiko**

**9th of September, 2014 - Farewell**

_Warm fingers wander over his cheek, admire the faint, almost invisible freckles and Arthur laughs at the tickling feeling. He pushes Alfred's hand away with a chuckle, right before he's pulled into a soft hug. Affections are whispered into his ear, warm breath brushes over his skin and the blond angel shudders. When he looks up, his gaze is met by ice-blue eyes, framed by black hair and a broad, loving smile._

_Arthur smiles back, feels his cheeks heating up. It is forbidden to feel this way, he knows it. He will be facing a terrible punishment should his relationship be discovered._

_But Alfred is his life, his love – and it doesn't matter that he is a devil._

_Black, leathery wings spread behind Alfred's broad back, warm to the touch. Arthur knows this – he ran his fingers countless times over them already. It is a display of great trust that they allow each other to do this and the angel shivers involuntarily from the mere thought of how Alfred's touch feels when his fingers trail gently over Arthur's white wings._

_The blond presses more into the hug, buries his face in the crook of Alfred's neck and sighs confidently. Suddenly, he remembers how they met and it brings a smile to his face. Their first encounter was definitely not a friendly one… in fact, they tried to kill each other and it took them a long time until this changed._

"_What are you smiling for?", Alfred asks quietly, presses a soft kiss into the blond hair and gently grabs Arthur's chin to make him look at him. "You look so happy – tell me your thoughts." The angel smiles sweetly, tilts his head back and gives a kiss to the slightly chapped lips of his devil. He brushes his fingers through the black, soft hair, trails his fingertips over the curled horns that stick out of the unruly locks and shakes his head. "It's nothing, I just… remembered how we met… how long we know each other already…"_

_Arthur slowly wraps his arms around the devil's neck, gives another kiss to his lips. Then suddenly he is lifted up and Alfred carries him over into the bedroom. Once more the angel is thankful for the loose rules of Hell that allow his black-haired devil to rent a small apartment in the human world without attracting any attention. Now this flat is something like their sanctuary, protected by a powerful barrier Alfred has set up with his magic._

_It protects the two from Heaven's scouts, gives them a bit of privacy. Arthur loves the cozy apartment with all his heart, but even more he loves Alfred – and as he is carried over to the bed, he tells his lover this. The answer is an endearing smile, only displayed to him; so bright, honest and loving that it makes his heart swell from love._

_The devil lays him down on the soft sheets, white wings spread wide and contrasting with the purple velvet covers. Ice-blue meets emerald green as they look at each other, right before Alfred indulges his angel in a passionate kiss._

_Warm bodies press together, more kisses and whispered endearments are shared as they wrap each other into warmth and love._

* * *

Arthur knelt on the ground of his cell, fingers clasped together.

He was an angel and yet this was the first time in his long life that he prayed.

He prayed for everything that was dear to him that Alfred was safe. Only his black-haired devil mattered right now – despite the fact that Arthur was sentenced to death and would be executed the next day.

The whole, happy time with Alfred suddenly seemed so very far away… the angel bit his lip, squeezed his fingers harder together as he called out silently to every Gods there might be.

Both of his wings were broken to prevent him from any attempted escape. He was in agony, every movement hurt, but it all wasn't important.

Arthur only worried if Alfred would be okay on his own. He had freed his devil from Heaven's prison two days ago - the reason he was captured now – and his lover had been in a worrying state. Heaven was soaked with holy essences and for a devil, simply being here deprived him of energy. Not to mention the injuries he had received from the other angels and that healed only badly.

The blond had used his own healing powers to help Alfred, but an angel's holy essence was painful for a being like Alfred. So he hadn't been able to help him completely and Arthur also hadn't had time to check if his lover would recover in time to flee.

But… did it even matter…

Arthur's green eyes filled with tears as he stared at the ceiling of the cell. He wouldn't see Alfred again.

He would die tomorrow.


	10. 10th of September

**AUTHOR: Midnight Run In The Rain**

**10th of September, 2014 - M.A.S.H.**

The sun was rising on Hetalia International High and while it may have been seven thirty in the morning, this little fact did not slow Alfred F. Jones down. Only during football season did he ever enjoy mornings. While football exhausted him physically, all his homework drained him mentally, thus allowing him to get great nights of sleep. One particular English teen, however, did not seem to be enjoying his mornings quite as much.

Arthur Kirkland was student body president, and with such a title came a responsibility. As president, it was his job to walk around the halls to make sure the students wouldn't get into trouble as they slowly trickled into the school. Unfortunately, this lead to him being extremely disliked because he tended to have a short fuse. Most people would flee upon seeing him or act accordingly so as to not get yelled at, but Alfred seemed to want to hear Arthur raise his voice and ran to him rather than away from him.

"Alfred! No running in the halls!" Arthur looked annoyed, but his lips quirked up when the large teen began to skip towards him instead. "Now that's just ridiculous."

"What's up, Artie?" He grinned at the other boy's smile, thrilled that he was able to get that from him.

"_Arthur_, Alfred, it's Arthur," the shorter blond rolled his eyes. "I'm doing what I do everyday, and yet you still ask everyday."

Blue eyes couldn't look away from him, "Okay, but I'll still ask everyday 'cause you don't really answer my question. I mean these 'what's up' as in 'how are you?'"

A light blush, barely noticeable, dusted Arthur's complexion and he looked away. "Oh... well those are... I see."

"Well?" Alfred's smile never faltered.

He was about to say something when a loud obnoxious crash was heard followed by Gilbert's voice calling out, "OH SHIT! RUN!"

Both boys sighed, knowing what was to happen next.

"GILBERT!" Arthur began to run after the troublesome trio, but stopped to answer Alfred. "I _was _fine, thank you for asking Alfred." And he even smiled at him before turning the corner to chase after the older boys, his voice also heard above the others' frantic calls.

Disappointed at his time cut short with Arthur, Alfred turned back around and heard a group of girls giggle. Curious as to why they were so happy when the rest of the school-aside from Arthur, Gilbert, Antonio, and Gilbert- seemed to still be asleep, he walked over to them. "Hey girls, what's up?"

"Oh, it's Alfred!" "Alfred!" "Oh my gosh, we should do one for Alfred." "Yeah!" The girls quickly turned to a new page in their notebook and wrote M-A-S-H on the top.

"So pick five names," the brunette looked up eagerly with her pencil poised.

"Arthur!" His mouth blurted out. "Uh..., Toris, Kiku, Mattie, and... Gilbert. What's this for?"

Another girl demanded he call out numbers.

"Fifty," the girls burst into giggles again, but wouldn't explain why. "Uh..one, two, three, four?"

"Cars."

Alfred grinned again, "That's easy! A 4x4 GMC truck, Hummer, uh... Can I say motor cycles too? Sweet! A Suzuki bike or a Harley and a... oh! Mustang."

"Cities."

"New York, DC, LA, London, Dallas. What's next."

"Colors."

"Red, white, blue, uh... black, green!"

"Careers."

"President of the grand US of A! Astronaut! Hmm, probably computer engineer or a CEO, or video game tester sounds cool. Any more?" He peeked over at the paper, but nothing had happened other than what he had said was written.

"Nope, just tell us what's your favorite number."

"Fifty!" When the girls gave a look of panic, he changed it to one, but that wasn't acceptable as well so he went with two.

Slowly, the girls began to cross out some of the words he had said circled the remaining ones. Giggling, the one of the blonds called out. "So according to our old elementary game, you'll live in a mansion and have a blue mustang and work as a CEO in London. You'll also marry Arthur and have one kid!"

That sounded pretty dang perfect to him.

Alfred laughed and extended his hand, "Haha, that's pretty cool. Can I have this?"

The girls gave him the paper with a knowing look. "I think that's all the proof you need," one said. Another suggested, "You should ask him out!" "Yeah, it's fate! What are the chances of that?"

"Shh! Just go!" The brunette held a hand to stop him from solving that mathematical equation.

And so Alfred did go. With the motivation he had from the girls, the quarterback began to run. He had no idea where Arthur was anymore, but he reasoned that it would be Arthur that finds him. The teen seemed to sniff out violations and Alfred was breaking quite a few. "Aaarthurrrr! Where aaare you?! Aaarthurrrr!"

Soon enough, he was right. A hand shot out, latched onto the back of Alfred's bomber jacket from around a corner, and dragged him back. "What in the bloody hell are you doing?! You can't just run around and yell like that in the hallways!

"I said your name correctly," Alfred was practically bouncing as he beamed down at him.

"Yes, well, that doesn't give you the right to break the rules," he reprimanded him, but Alfred could tell his heart wasn't completely in it. He seemed rather pleased. "Do you _want_ to get written up?"

"Do I get detention with you?"

"Er...," he blushed, finally noticing the eager puppy look on the other's face. Even if he couldn't admit it aloud, Arthur was rather fond of the idiot when he became excitable like he was now, "That depends..."

Alfred's expression changed as he thought something over. "Hmm, I guess, but that would be a pretty sucky first date, wouldn't it?"

Vibrant green eyes dilated, "Fir-wha-date?!"

"No yelling in the hall, Artie."

"W-why?"

Alfred blushed as he grabbed Arthur's hand, "Because I like you and it's pretty much meant to be, see?" He pulled out the wrinkled paper from his back pocket.

"Really? A paper?" He snatched it from the other's hand, but a second paper slowly fluttered to the ground.

Arthur picked it up and read his name on the top of it with Alfred's name, the color red, Mini Cooper, a number one, London, and mansion circled. "What's this?"

Alfred peered over his should and laughed, picking Arthur up. "It's fate!"


	11. 11th of September

**AUTHOR: atlas-workbench**

**11th of September, 2014 - Verse by the Side of the Road**

The endless ribbon of road stretched forever onward before them. The blue sky was infinite and the warm tar smell with a hint of honeysuckle wafted through the car. The idyllic landscape did nothing to improve the mood of the two occupants of the vehicle.

"This is stupid," said England pointedly glaring at the driver.

"It's not my fault," America shot back.

"Clearly it is – the world meeting is in America."

"And as much as I love all of me," said America. "Even I don't like it when the boss fingers a smaller town for the conference … especially not when one of us decides to put up a fuss about things."

England rolled his eyes and redirected his ire at the passing landscape.

"Especially when it is you without your tea," America said. He reached over and gave England a pat on the knee to try and make them both feel better.

"I am not that bad," England said.

"You almost elbowed Germany in the face today."

"He was looking a bit off and I didn't appreciate his attitude toward certain subjects," England said.

"You were tea deprived and now I have to drive us to the next town over to see if they have anything "cultured" enough for you," said America. "It's for the greater good. I am such a hero."

"If we even make it to the next town," England said as the car took on a railroad crossing without slowing down. "You drive like a mad man!"

"There's no one around … we're good."

"I feel like your car is going to fall apart."

"And here I thought you enjoyed my Packard with its fun bright red hexagons on the hubcaps! Sure it's a bit 1920s and it's not new like my Ford V-8 but it's still a good ride."

Not wanting to delve into that kettle of fish the duo drove on in silence until England noticed the scenery take on a more discernable blur.

"Why are you slowing down?" said England.

America's grin just kept getting bigger as the car continued to slow to a much more manageable pace.

"Alfred what is going on?" England said. He tried to follow where America was looking but couldn't tell what was so interesting about the upcoming stretch of road.

Then out of the corner of his eye he saw it - one lone red sign with white letters about 20 feet from the road.

"KEEP WELL," the sign read.

England cocked his eyebrow.

"That was odd," England said. "Do your people normally wish well to strangers on the road in the middle of nowhere?"

Before he could get his answer, he could just see another sign coming in to view.

"TO THE RIGHT," the sign read.

Before England could question again, America said, "I haven't read this one before!"

He did a series of funny taps on the steering wheel and wiggled around in his seat as if he wanted to be dancing instead of driving.

"OF THE ONCOMING CAR," the next sign read.

Not one to wait, America sped up after they read the sign and as soon as the next just barely came into view he slowed down again so that they could read the latest red and white sign.

"GET YOUR CLOSE SHAVES," the sign read.

Again America sped up and slowed down as yet another roadside sign came into view.

"FROM THE HALF POUND JAR," the sign read.

After this sign America returned to his previous break-neck speed. England figured the whole bizarre event was over.

"What the heck did we just – "

England cut himself off as another sign went whizzing past the car. He could barely read this one but the under-his-breath chant that America gave as they passed it gave England little doubt as to what it said.

"BURMA SHAVE."

"A crummy commercial," England said in disbelief.

"Hey!" America said. "They're awesome. You drive around in the middle of nowhere and all of a sudden – boom – there they are. I like looking at amber waves of grain as much as the next guy but they really help liven up the ride."

"Don't you think it odd to have roadside advertizing?" said England.

"Nope!" said America. "I think my favorite is "He played – a sax – had no B.O. – but his whiskers scratched – so she let him go – Burma Shave."

England sat in silence blinking owlishly at America for a few moments before commenting, "You do realize that my army just recently dropped the requirement for compulsory facial hair?"

England himself has sported a very nice mustache for almost 50 years because of those laws! He'd even kept it up during the Great War when most others decided it wasn't worth the trouble in such a mess and the laws changed. 1915 wasn't too terribly long ago. England absentmindedly stroked his upper lip in reminiscing. He barely caught the turn the conversation took.

"Yeah. That was awful," said America. "Kissing would have sucked."

The temperature of the car rose a little bit from the blushing both suddenly were doing.

"You wanted to kiss me even then?" England said.

"Especially then."

England hummed in appreciation. He shimmied closer to America and gave him a good long look.

He patted America's cheek and said, "You're just jealous that you can't grow one well," before sliding back over to his side of the car.

"I can too!" America said. His blush has spread all the way to his ears and the back of his neck.

"Sure thing love."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Let it be known that Burma Shave signs are awesome. They were the first controlled effort in widespread highway advertizing in America. The signs always came in sets of 6 – a witty line divided in such a way to add suspense followed by the obligatory "Burma Shave" at the end. They started around 1926 and didn't stop until the early 1962 when TV and radio shook things up in a big way. This fic is set in 1935 – the year that the jingle on the signs in the fic came out. The jingle that America picked as his favorite is from 1933…it is probably not his favorite jingle but he's in his 1920s car, probably thinking about the 1920s because car radios are just starting to become a thing right about now (a very expensive thing that doesn't get cheaper or really take off well until the 1950s or so), and jazz is big in the 1920s so the one with the saxophone player is at the forefront of his mind. Also note that because this fic is set in 1935, World War I is called the Great War because there's no way the War to End All Wars was going to lead to another war. Lastly to be honest, I don't know much about facial hair in the military in a historical context other then for the Brits the transition is usually blamed on the Crimean War and WWI was such a mess that by 1915 there just wasn't time to bother with something so trivial as compulsory facial hair. For a full listing of all 600 official Burma Shave jingles read, "The Verse By the Side of the Road" by Frank Rowsome, Jr. – it's a super fast read and the jingles are _so_ very worth it – it is also what I decided to name this fic after.


	12. 12th of September

**AUTHOR: empressvegah**

**12th of September, 2014 - Always Beside You**

The two of them were always busy.

Alfred, working as a resident doctor in one of the more prestigious hospitals in the area, had his hands full and couldn't even manage to get home as much as he liked – he always had to stay back and make sure that everything's okay. Arthur was a teacher at a local high school, and even if he had a regular schedule compared to Alfred's, he still had lots of seminars to attend and he had to stay in school often to monitor his students.

Worst of all, their days-off never match. Arthur might have a regular Sunday day-off, while Alfred's free time depended on what his senior resident would give him, and he couldn't actually request his days-off to be regular.

It was a bit hard for the two of them.

But when Alfred managed to get a day-off, he visited Arthur in school and waited for him during breaks so they could have lunch together. He even bought Arthur tea from his favorite tea shop down the block and some scones, just to see his face lit up in surprise upon seeing his boyfriend of three years come to meet him.

The students were already familiar with Mr. Kirkland's boyfriend, and all were eager to see him enter the class five minutes before lunch break and see how their normally strict teacher got red and suppressed himself from running towards the blond American to hug him tight. At times, the students made bets on whether Mr. Kirkland would succumb to his feelings and run to his boyfriend or not. It was always a funny yet touching scene to witness these reunions between their teacher and the handsome doctor, and some students find their relationship very inspiring.

USUK

Alfred had many plans for the two of them, even if his work at the hospital demanded so much time from him. One day, the doctor only had the nine-hour shift, which Arthur didn't know about, so it was a very pleasant surprise when Arthur got out from the faculty room to see Alfred leaning against the wall, grinning at him. He was wearing a plain blue shirt and jeans with his signature bomber jacket on, his favorite dog tag chain hanging around his neck.

Arthur felt that he was so lucky to be with such a wonderful man – a dedicated doctor and a very loving boyfriend – so he allowed his normally stiff posture to dissolve and he embraced his boyfriend in the middle of the hallway (good thing it was deserted).

Alfred took him out to an Italian restaurant for a 'surprise date', and Arthur couldn't help but feel very happy that Alfred, despite their schedules and workload, still managed to find time and take him to places he really enjoyed. They spent their time talking and catching up, and the Brit could see Alfred's happiness reflected in his eyes as he narrated to Arthur just how he managed to revive a patient who went into cardiac arrest, or how glad he was to see his patient recovered and was about to be discharged from months-long stay in the hospital.

Arthur smiled at him fondly, and reached out to touch Alfred's hand that was resting on the table. "I love you, Alfred," he said softly, his cheeks becoming bright red. It wasn't often that he said that out loud, but this time he was overflowing with adoration and love for the man sitting across him.

The doctor stopped mid-sentence and a rare, bashful smile crossed his face. Even if they'd been together for years already, Alfred still got the warm, fluttery feeling on his chest that made him stop all actions and just want to kiss Arthur right then and there whenever he said those three little words.

Holding Arthur's hand, Alfred stood up, went to Arthur's side and bent down, placing a light kiss on his lips. Grinning like he had won the lottery, Alfred replied, "I love you too, Artie."

USUK

Arthur savored the warmth as Alfred lay next to him, sleeping soundly. In nights like this, when his beloved doctor was beside him, Arthur actually didn't want to sleep. He just wanted press his body right next to Alfred's, and place his head over his chest, listening to his heartbeat. In the darkness of the night, Arthur allowed himself to be sentimental and clung to his boyfriend. He honestly wished that Alfred could be with him more, but he also accepted that moments like this were a reward in itself. It made him love Alfred even more.

Listening to Alfred's rhythmic heartbeat lulled him to sleep. He didn't realize that Alfred was half-awake and had placed an arm around his waist, pulling him even closer.

For Arthur, who often woke up alone in bed, waking up with Alfred next to him was the best thing. With his mind still fogged with sleep – in times like this he was the most honest and vulnerable – he snuggled closer to Alfred, pressing his face right against Alfred's chest. He felt Alfred shift and strong arms were wrapped around his torso. Feeling as if his heart would burst with joy, he whispered, "Alfred, I really love you."

Alfred squeezed him a bit harder than necessary, but he heard his lover answer in an equally soft voice, "Arthur, I love you too. Stay with me always."

This time, Arthur looked up to Alfred's face, and he wiggled upwards to peck the smiling lips. "Always, love. Always."


	13. 13th of September

**AUTHOR: The Ebony Tiger**

**13th of September, 2014 - Buying Your Kisses**

"No Alice! I won't allow you to do it!"

"What are you now? My dad?" Alice scoffed at Alfred's statement, while balancing two boxes of decorations on her arms.

Alfred sulked at her reply and Alice's features softened. " Oh Alfred, they needed a volunteer at the kissing booth. Don't worry. One, I can't sell anything; all selling booths were taken up. Two, I have only organized this carnival; I want to take part in it too. Three, it's only an hour, then I'm done and we can go around if you want. Four, who would possibly in their right mind would want to kiss me, the student council president?" Alice reassured him, giving him a rare smile.

Alfred huffed in annoyance. _I would._ "There's a lot of boys who leap at the chance, you're pretty, smart and kind, who wouldn't want to-" he caught himself midsentence, feeling his cheeks heating up. He cursed internally; being stubborn and annoyed had nearly made him confess his feelings for Alice.

Hearing that, Alice blushed. Alfred had never called her 'pretty'. Who knew her best friend thought of her that highly? "Well thank you Alfred, that's sweet of you." Still noticing the pout in her friends face. "Come on don't be so sour, this is a carnival, and you love carnivals!"

"Alfred stop pestering Alice, she already agreed with us to work in the kissing booth, it's just only an hour!" a voice interrupted their conversation. Turning around, they were both greeted by the sight of two grinning girls, Mei and Elizeveta.

Alfred immediately frowned at the two girls; they were the reason why Alice agreed to this. _A lot can happen in an hour._ " You know why don't' you both work in the kissing booth instead of Alice?" he questioned coolly, trying to mask his frustration; not noticing the knowing looks shared between the two girls.

" The kissing booth is only for girls who are single. Mei here already has Kiku and I have Roddy. The last time I checked Alice was single. Therefore she's suitable for this! Come on, we even got Lovina to join!" Elizeveta exclaimed with Mei nodding her head along enthusiastically.

Alfred let out a defeated sigh. There was no way he could try and persuade Alice to not work in the kissing booth, she was too stubborn. He looked over and saw Alice still focused on balancing the boxes, oblivious to the conversation.

He rushed over to her and lifted the boxes with ease. "Here I'll do it." And walked towards the booth. Alice smiled at the gesture, muttering a small 'thank you' before finding herself in between Elizeveta and Mei.

"Alfred's jealous~" Mei sang. Alice was startled by the sudden statement from Mei and quirked a brow at her. " Why would he be? Don't tell me he wants to be in the kissing booth?" she asked, earning a faceplam from both girls.

"Don't be silly! Alfred's jealous of the boys who would be kissing you when you are working at the kissing booth! He wants you for himself!" Elizeveta stated exasperatedly.

Alice turned red after hearing that " W-What! No way! He-"

"Honhonhon do my ears deceive me? Alice volunteered to work in the kissing booth?" Francis cut in the conversation along with Gilbert and Antonio. " I might pay for it to share the l'amour with you." He winked at Alice, whose face had already turned sour and disgusted.

With a 'humph' Alice replied with a sneer. " I'll give you a kiss alright. A kiss with my fist on your frog face."

Francis put his hand over his heart mockingly "Oh you wound me so mon petit lapin! However I still won't miss this chance to get a kiss from you. Even Gilbert would want it. Right?" He turned to the albino who in turn grinned. "Hell yeah I am! After that I'll get even more awesome because I kissed the stuffy ol' student council president and survived to tell the tale!"

Alice was starting too regret her decision. Why did she even agree onto this in the first place? _Well at least Antonio is pinning after Lovina, not me. _Alice groaned in frustration, she couldn't back out now, her pride wouldn't let her. She snapped out of her thought when she felt a shadow over her. Alfred had appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of her protectively, shielding her from the trio.

Alice felt her cheeks flare up again. Why was Alfred acting extra protective today? As Alfred opened his mouth to say something, the school bell rang, signaling the starting of the carnival.

"Oh that's the bell! Chop chop Alice! Into the booth! You're up first!" Elizeveta exclaimed, dragging Alice to the booth with Mei giggling along.

Alfred's dreaded time has started.

Students started pouring in and Alfred started to grow more alert when he caught the sight of boys looking at the kissing both. To his horror he saw Mathias, the Danish boy reaching into his pocket, Francis and Gilbert counting coins in their hands, and the vice president Wang Yao was making his way over!

Alarm bells were ringing in his head. There were so many boys!

"Seems like Alice is pretty popular eh? A teasing voice asked behind him. Alfred whipped his head around and found himself staring at his twin brother Matthew.

Alfred grabbed Matthew by the shoulders. "Mattie! You gotta help me! We have to stop them before they kiss Alice!"

"No"

Alfred sighed in relief "Thanks man! Wait. WHAT?!" he exclaimed.

Matthew's lips formed a smirk "Nope" he said, popping the 'p'. " I was thinking of buying one of her kisses too. She's such a pretty and nice girl, don't you think? Wait, you do."

Alfred's mouth formed a big round 'O'. He couldn't believe his introverted brother would do this!

"However…" Matthew continued. "I won't kiss her if you do it first." He smiled. "Oh look, Mathias is already handing her the money. I best go queue up." And with that he slipped off, leaving a stupefied Alfred behind.

Alfred looked towards the booth again and his eyes widened with utter horror as Alice accepted the money from Mathias.

Instinctively, he ran over towards the booth, snatched the money out of Alice's hand and shoved it at Mathias. " You guys are not allowed to kiss her!" He shouted, shocking everyone by his actions.

Alice was the first to snap out of shock, folding her arms around her chest. " Alfred, that was extremely rude, I have to sell-" she wasn't able to finish her sentence as a fifty-dollar note was shoved in front of her.

"Here! Alfred said desperately. "I'm buying all your kisses!" his face burning red as his outstretched hand held the note.

Alice felt her jaw drop and her eyes widened as wide as saucers. Her heart was pounding like mad and her face was steaming red.

"Ooh. You'll have to kiss her that many times then." Mei chimed in, face smiling cheekily along with Elizeveta.

"Uh…Ok" Alfred replied. Slowly he held Alice by the arms. "Heh, let's get over with it right?" he joked awkwardly. Alice nodded her head mutedly, too shocked to reply.

The moment their lips touched, Alice felt a tingle down her spine and spread all over her body from top to toes, but was cut short when she felt her glasses clinked with Alfred's. Alfred pulled back, blushing heavily. "Heh, the glasses are in the way." He reached up and slowly took away Alice's glasses, pocketing it in his breast pocket; the leant back down towards Alice.

Alice's fluttered shut as Alfred closed the gap between them again. The second lasted longer and Alice felt her insides turn into goo. She really did like Alfred's lips.

Alfred's heart was doing somersaults in his rib cage and mind cheering. Alice tasted like tea to him. He cupped her face and felt her sigh in contentment, making him even more confidence.

As they exchanged more kisses, each kiss getting more passionate than the previous, Alice had her arms around Alfred's neck, playing with his hair while Alfred has his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him. He felt as he had died and went to heaven.

They had lost track of the time and the amount of kisses shared. When at last Alice broke the kiss, she leaned her forehead against his, smiling shyly. Both of them were breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes, lost in their own world.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Alfred asked breathlessly.

"Yes" She breathed out and Alfred kissed her again. Not noticing the people behind them.

"Oh man, that was close, I nearly had to kiss her!" Matthias exclaimed in a whisper to everyone.

"Yes aru! Please don't drag me into one of your matchmaking schemes again Mei!" Yao chided at his little sister.

"At least I got to rile Alfred up hehe." Matthew chuckled.

Elizeveta smiled widely at the bunch of boys. "Thank you for helping out guys!" Sharing a look with Mei, she smirked "Now it's Lovina's turn."


	14. 14th of September

**AUTHOR: isap8**

**14th of September, 2014**

It had only been a week of school and Alfred was already pretty sure that he was failing 11 Chem. No, scratch that, Alfred was _positive _that he was. The first lab was a complete bust that, long story short, landed him in the office and gave him a burn mark about the size of a penny on his thumb. He'd just shrugged it off back then, but seeing the 22% on the paper was like a kick in the gut to him.

His Canadian brother's good-looking lab partner probably wasn't helping him concentrate, either. He couldn't help but stare at the back of the Brit's head during lectures, smiling almost childishly as he imagine what it would be like to run his fingers through that golden hair, to look into those emerald eyes, and to press his lips against the warm and slightly chapped ones. Was his skin as soft as it looked, just begging to be touched and stroked and kissed and oh was this all going to drive Alfred up a wall. He'd never admit it to anyone, but it took him one week to fall for that adorable exchange student with the cute voice, the way his r's sounded rounder and almost like a sigh…

"Alfred, are you even listening to me?" Arthur groaned in exasperation. Alfred couldn't help it as a hint of rose broke out on his cheeks. Even when angry at him, the Brit was cute. He couldn't take him seriously at all, not with his two caterpillar brows furrowed into a large, monstrous caterpillar that crawled along his brow bone with every light twitch of his facial muscles. It was rather entertaining to watch, in reality. The caterpillar brows were just one more rather cute feature that the teen held.

"If you aren't going to listen to me, I'll just leave," the English boy said. He was growing steadily more frustrated, and the narrowing of his eyes was enough to snap Alfred out of his daze. "When your brother said you were doing badly, I didn't realize that he meant _completely bloody hopeless_."

"Sorry," Alfred muttered. Wasn't his fault, anyways. He couldn't help it if Arthur was much more interesting than nomenclature. "Hey, how'd ya do that?"

What was the American babbling off about now? He was expected to somehow tutor the rather irritating teen, yet the yank didn't seem like he held any interest, whatsoever, in learning. He could put up with such a thing normally, but not now with the way Alfred's eyes seemed to scrutinize his appearance, leaving him slightly self-conscious. Shite, he couldn't let this…this _idiot_ make him feel this way. _More of your conversation would infect my brain._

"The thing, yanno. Where you look all cute like that all day. How'd you do it?" he asked curiously, his words innocent and not meant to be flirty. The confusing intentions – or lack thereof – would have made Arthur angry, had it not caused him to be flustered instead. A valiant attempt was made to fight off the blush, but he was deeply unsuccessful as it grew over his otherwise paper-pale skin.

"I beg your pardon?"

Alfred Jones simply grinned; excited to see his effect on the Brit. Maybe his intentions weren't as innocent as Arthur had first thought. "Yanno, you're cute when you blush like that," he admitted, leaving Arthur stumbling for words. How the hell was he supposed to react to something like _that_? Besides, there had to be some rule about tutor-student relations that kept…things like this from happening. Although he had to admit, the boy was brave to say things that easily. Brave or stupid.

A heavy silence seemed to settle on them and, for a moment, Alfred came up with what was probably the most stupid idea he'd had all year (which was probably saying something). _What if I kissed him? He'd be pissed, but what if I kissed him? What if I just pulled him over by the collar and just did it?_

He knew it was stupid, knew Arthur would hate it, knew he'd push him aside, never speak to him again. Maybe he'd even hit him, although he doubted the Brit had it in him to hit a school football player… Still, with his mind wandering and more than enjoying the thought of just pulling him in and kissing him deeply, Alfred barely noticed as Arthur returned to lecturing the boy on nomenclature and naming this and naming that, chemistry, chemistry, chemistry…

_There's no backing out now that he knows I think he's cute._ As Arthur tried to get the chemistry work into Alfred, Alfred's mind continued to wander. _I wonder what his hair feels like. Maybe it's super soft… 'Sides, worst he'll do is stop trying to teach me._

Determination brewed and the boy knew just what he was going to do.

_I'm gonna kiss him. I'm gonna kiss him. Oh shit I'm gonna kiss him._

He couldn't take it anymore; he would either kiss him or die trying. Well, kiss him or fail chemistry for trying. His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest through his throat, beating hard as he tried to swallow down his nervousness. If he kept thinking like this, he'd never do it but probably faint from the tightness in his chest.

Cutting off yet another useless sentence that Alfred probably wouldn't have understood anyways, he pressed his lips to Arthurs in a warm but slightly too forceful kiss.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly. If he could, he would have pushed Alfred off and called him out on the sudden kiss. He would have shouted angrily, have collected his things and gone…

But Arthur had to admit, there was something about those warm lips and the way that they brushed perfectly against his that made him think that maybe, just maybe, this was a better idea than chemistry.


	15. 15th of September

**AUTHOR: Winter-Grown-Lily**

**15th of September, 2014 - Horribly Domestic**

Arthur's love confession did not happen in the way he thought it would.

What he had imagined was horribly cliché and sappy, but still made him slightly swoon at the thought. After a nice dinner at a respectable restaurant, he and his lover would take a walk on a moonlit beach. Then when they were both standing under the watchful eye of mother moon, they would exchange words of love and promises and share a tender kiss.

(Then would come the very fun part of going back to either of their places for some well-deserved love-making, but Arthur digresses.)

However, that did not happen. The sweet exchange of hearts would actually happen in the living (his to be precise), while his lover was laying his head in Arthur's lap as the brit was embroidering quietly. Apart from the electronic bleeps from Alfred's handheld gaming device, there was silence. No words, no babbling, just glances at each other every once in a while. Alfred didn't even blush and look away when Arthur caught his gaze like he used to do in the past. Now, he just smiled back with his easy-going grin and went back to his game.

And it was in that moment, he realised that he was in deep. Horribly, domestically deep. The revelation almost made him drop his sewing onto Alfred's face (which he didn't, thank goodness, otherwise that would've resulted in a needle getting into Alfred's eye and that would have been an atrocious moment killer).

A wave of contentment washed over Arthur as he gazed down at the face currently scrunched up in concentration. "I love you." He said.

Blue eyes went wide as they flickered from the screen to the Englishman. Arthur struggled to get the blush off his face, he himself was all too aware of the implications of being the first to admit. Before his shyness could show in full and cause him to leave suddenly, regardless if Alfred's head was in his lap or not and suffer from a terrible neck ache, the American spoke up.

"Love ya too."

As Arthur's heartbeat calmed down to something normal, Alfred had gone back to his video game with a beam on his face. It Arthur a while, but Arthur also continued his own activity with a similar smile stretched across his lips.


	16. 16th of September

**AUTHOR: Empress Vegah**

**16th of September, 2014 - ****Photographs and Memories**

_Ring. Ring._

Blue eyes snapped open, and Alfred groaned out, wishing his alarm clock was just playing games with him. Too bad he knew that was just wishful thinking. With great reluctance, he heaved himself out of bed, and sleepily made his way to the bathroom for his morning shower.

He did his best to ignore certain shampoo bottles and the lavender shower gel and just squeezed out some masculine body wash he'd bought.

Alfred finally finished his shower, and was glad that he hadn't made a fool of himself inside the bathroom, even if no one was there to see him.

Browsing through his shirts hurt. Seeing those crisp buttondowns in smart and formal designs hanging on his closet made him remember those mornings when he would be fussed over, making sure that he was decent enough to face his students in the university. He closed his eyes as he did his best to stop the pain from making its way on his face.

He left the room in a hurry, only to be met by the silence of his kitchen. Making breakfast was always a challenge, though.

Over the years, he was so used to making breakfast for two that it was very hard for him to cook just for one. Alfred always wondered how he still managed to be sane after all these weeks.

Swallowing the lump that never failed to form in his throat, he slowly began preparing his lonely meal.

USUK

Alfred greeted his students enthusiastically, and his class brightened up and returned the greeting. He was a professor in both Mathematics and Physics, and he handled the seniors; rowdy and unbearable for the other teachers, but who respected their Professor Al because he delivered the difficult lessons in the best, easy-to-understand lectures.

Nobody from the academy knew that Professor Alfred F. Jones was hurting. Yet nobody also knew that Professor Al, as what his students called him, was in a relationship for seven years with one Arthur Kirkland. And that their beloved Prof had been living alone in his apartment for six weeks already.

_Arthur._

Keeping his happy façade, Alfred went on his way after class. Once he was home, he rushed to his bedroom and took out the box he sealed away underneath his bed, and rummaged through until his fingers touched the familiar firm papers he'd treasured all those years.

Arthur's greeting cards, letters, and photographs.

Alfred flipped them open, and his eyes took in the beautiful script, the words of love and promises of forever, all written in ink. Arthur loved writing letters and sending him greeting cards for each occasion even if they lived together. Had lived together.

His vision started to blur as tears filled his blue eyes. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Everything just hurt, and even if the six weeks had gone by, he still loved and missed Arthur. His Arthur. Dearest, darling Arthur.

Arthur had been the best thing that happened to his life. He had been his best friend, his first love, his first relationship, his everything.

They shared so many firsts together. Alfred recalled those mornings when he could just stay in bed cuddling Arthur, who pretended to be annoyed but loved it just as much. He remembered those nights of passion when they made love and whispered sweet nothings to each other as Alfred filled Arthur over and over again until all they could do was embrace and kiss each other tiredly before falling asleep in each others' arms.

He remembered just how genuinely happy he was when Arthur had been his all throughout those seven years.

But Arthur had wanted something else.

And all Alfred wanted to do was make his Arthur happy just as much as Arthur made him happy.

He wished him all the happiness the world could offer, and with one last kiss, he let him go.

And now Alfred knew that he was living in a void of everyday living without him. He'd been living a hollow life ever since Arthur moved away to pursue his dream. And he wouldn't hold Arthur back, not even if he was slowly dying inside. He couldn't do that to Arthur.

He couldn't even pull out Arthur's things inside his apartment. He couldn't afford to do so. Keeping Arthur's personal things away was like locking him out of his life. And even if it hurt him ever minute he was inside his home, he wouldn't take them away.

His apartment couldn't be his home without traces of Arthur.

Taking his glasses off, Alfred pressed the sleeves of his shirt against his eyes, drying the tears that were threatening to fall. He did his best to stifle the undignified sound that would come out from his throat.

He then heard his doorbell ring.

Trying his best to make himself presentable, he shoved the box with Arthur's mementos underneath his bedroom, he walked towards the door, wondering who could be visiting him at this time.

What greeted him on the other side of the door almost gave him a shock.

Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur Kirkland, with eyes still as green and as beautiful as he remembered, was now red-rimmed. _Had he been crying? _Alfred wondered worriedly for a second, before he heard Arthur speak.

"Ah… Alfred. I…" Arthur trailed off, looking away, and Alfred's heart sped up. Hearing Arthur's voice brought him profound joy. He struggled to keep his arms at his sides, lest he accidentally wrap them around his beloved Brit.

"Am I… Can you… Can you welcome me back?" Arthur asked meekly while looking down at his shoes. Silence fell over them as Alfred processed what Arthur was asking.

_Can he welcome Arthur back?_

"Arthur, that is the most stupid question you've asked, and that is saying something," Alfred answered, and Arthur's eyes widened, rejection swirling in those emerald eyes.

"Ah… Right," Arthur laughed self-deprecatingly, and he stepped away from Alfred's door. "I'm sorry. It… It's nice to see you, Alfi- Alfred," Arthur smiled sadly back at him and was about to turn away when Alfred took hold of his arm and pulled him back against his chest.

"Artie, you old fool, I'll always welcome you back." He squeezed Arthur tighter as his head fell against the warm shoulder. "God, Arthur. I still love you, damn it," his voice was thick with emotion. He could feel his eyes sting again.

"A-Al…" Arthur's voice cracked. "I've loved you still. I'm sorry."

Arthur would have to make it up to Alfred for hurting him so bad, but love was sometimes sweeter the second time around.


	17. 17th of September

**AUTHOR: Corey5268**

**17th of September, 2014 - Apples**

America can still remember the first time he ate an apple. By the golden light of late afternoon, England chased America through the trees. America would run as fast as he could, dodging tree trunks and jumping over roots, but England's longer legs would always bring him to the little boy. Then delighted shrieks would ring up to the sky as England tickled the boy, or threw him high into the air, only to catch him after a terrifying second. They played until twilight, when the air began to cool and the colors faded from the sky. England caught America for the final time that evening, grinned, and placed a kiss on the boy's forehead.

"We should go home." Normally America would argue, but he was worn out from the hours of running around.

"That's fine. Can I ride on your shoulders?" England nodded and lifted the boy up even higher. When America confirmed that he was in place, they began moving. America thought that together, he and England probably made the tallest person in the world. When he shared his thoughts, he could feel England's chuckle in response.

"I think you're right, love."

"I'm gonna be as big and strong as you one day, England. Then we'll be even taller than the tallest person in the world!" England didn't reply, but not in a mean way. Once, he told America that sometimes nothing needs to be said. America supposed that it was one of those times, because England didn't say anything until they reached a strange looking tree.

"Do you want an apple, America?" America scrunched up his nose.

"Are apples those things growing from that tree?" England chuckled again, and America wasn't sure if he should be offended.

"Yes, they are. They're fruits. My colonists brought them over quite a while ago. I'm surprised you've never seen one before."

"Do they taste good? If they do, I'll try one."

"I like the taste." And with that, England moved closer to the tree. England held America's legs a little tighter so that the boy could lean over a little and twist off an apple. England moved out of the cluster of branches, and America took his first bite. The crunch is the most vivid part of the memory. For a split second, the crickets faded under the sound of his teeth sinking into the fruit. The sticky-sweet apple juice hit his tongue, and America fell in love for the first time.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes! Can I have another one?" England laughed harder this time.

"Why don't you finish that one first? You can take another one home for tomorrow." America seized the opportunity (and the apple), and the two went home, just as the last of the light was leaving the sky.

Almost three centuries later, America and England enter the same orchard under the late afternoon sun. America reaches the apple trees first, sprinting with a book clutched under his arm. His laugh echoes through the trees. England reaches the grove almost a minute later. He tries his hardest to hide his smile as he stops and calls out for America.

"Give me my book, you bastard." The corners of his mouth twist slightly. Wisely, America doesn't answer. England waits until he hears a twig snap, and dashes off in that direction. His smile wins as he starts chasing America through the trees.

America begins to tire out after a few minutes, and England closes in. Each step brings him closer and closer, until he's only an arm's length away. America feels the other man hit his back. As the ground rushes towards his face, he tosses the book a couple of feet away. He uses the momentum gained from falling to roll to the side, causing England to hit the ground with him. The two grapple for a few minutes in the cool grass. Eventually, England manages to straddle America's chest. It's only a few more seconds before America feels a pair of hands force his wrists to the ground.

"Alright, you win." America concedes, letting his head fall to the ground. England smirks, and leans in so close that America can see the freckles on his nose. The green of England's eyes replaces the green from the trees.

"Of course," he whispers. "Don't mess with me, love."

"Always." America lifts his head back up. He kisses England slowly, and sweeter than apple pie. When he finally drops his head back to the ground, he can see England's contented smile. Seeing the crinkles at the corners of England's eyes always brings him back to that first apple's crunch.

"Mind if I take an apple?" England asks. He stands up and brushes the dirt off of his clothes. America props himself up on his elbows to look at him.

"No, go ahead." He says. Even before England reaches for the fruit, it's obvious that the lowest apple will be out of his reach. America jumps to his feet, and walks up behind England.

"Better idea!" He announces before crouching down, and maneuvering himself so that England is seated on his shoulders when he stands back up.

"Put me down, you wanker!"

"Is the exact opposite of what you said in the shower this morning." America helpfully finishes. He can hear the pout in the silence that follows.

"I could have climbed the tree."

"I know." He hears England twist and snap the apple off of the tree. "Hey, England?"

"Mmm?" Another apple is twisted off, and then handed to him.

"I still think that together we make the tallest person in the world."

"I think you're right, love. Taller than the tallest." America turns his head to the side to kiss the inside of England's leg. With a contented sigh, America began walking. In the golden light of the afternoon, their shadow giant shadow followed them home.


	18. 18th of September

**AUTHOR: Koulako**

**18th of September, 2014 - In Loving Memory**

Alfred F. Jones has always wondered what would happen if he were to disappear. If he were to suddenly leave town or get into a fatal accident. He had read once that it's normal to have these thoughts, to think about the reactions of your loved ones and blah blah blah. But Alfred didn't wonder about the immediate reaction that was obvious. His parents would cry and call the police, Mattie would drive around the entire city looking for him, friends at school would worry, and everyone else would gossip and make up stories. That's not the part that Alfred was so obsessed about. What he really wanted to know was what would happen after all that. Who would still care about him after a year? Two years? A decade?

Lord knows he couldn't count on his parents for that. They are barely here for him now. Maybe Matthew would but he'd probably only let himself think about his missing brother on his birthday or the anniversary of his disappearance, as a way to get through life normally. What Alfred wants is a person who'd never stop thinking about him or at least for more than once or twice a year. And it scared him that he didn't have anyone like that in his life.

Life in the middle of nowhere was really difficult. A small town life means that everything is everyone's business. That was one of the things Alfred hated about his life. Where's the privacy? It's one of the things that Alfred wishes for. Too bad high school didn't allow that. Don't get him wrong. It's not like Alfred was bullied or isolated or anything. The opposite really, he was outgoing and friendly with just about everyone. But that was the problem. No matter who he knew or how much he talked to them there was no depth in the relationship. No real connection, he was in a sea of strangers. Strangers that wanted to know all his dirty secrets like the time he punched a security guard or when he was caught with a bag of coke that wasn't his.

The point is that the lack of attachment was the best legitimate reason Alfred could find, the real reason was a gut feeling. Intuition told him he wanted out. So that's what he did. On February 11th he packed his bags and left to Boston. All he had was a gut feeling that it was time to go and he followed through.

* * *

It has been four months since Alfred has gone missing. The town was shocked, the police were at a dead end, and everyone mourned assuming he was dead. But after that nothing happened. Everyone went through the motions and moved on. Except for Arthur Kirkland. Arthur was a classmate of Jones, they weren't close but that doesn't matter much. Arthur had always wanted to get closer to Alfred but there always seemed to be a wall around him, something that Arthur was too afraid to touch so he watched from afar. So when he had gone missing it really affected him. He felt regret, he felt responsibility, and–worst of all–useless. He couldn't do anything to find the lad and he couldn't stop the town from moving on. So he took it upon himself to care. _It would be a bloody shame to let that boy be forgotten._

* * *

It has been seventeen months since Alfred had left. And although he doesn't regret his decision he felt the urge to go back home. To see with his own eyes the answer he's been looking for. It was winter break and Alfred took a vacation leave. He dyed his hair black and found a motel far away from home so he wouldn't get spotted. But it wasn't worth it, his family has moved away eleven months ago, yet Alfred stuck around anyway. He found a tombstone in the cemetery with his name on it. _Alfred Fitzgerald Jones. 7/04/1996~2/11/2013. We will love and miss you forever._

"Hah! What a joke." he mumbled, kicking dirt over the ground where the empty casket should be. That's when his foot smashed against something hidden under a mound of dirt. When Alfred crouched down to check it out he found a little tin box. _What the...who left this here? _He reached out for the container and gently opening the lid, trying to make sure it doesn't break.

Inside he found a stack of letters, each with numbered corners and addressed to him. Curious and confused Alfred eagerly read letter #1.

_Hello Alfred. I know this is weird but I wanted to write you a farewell letter. this is strange but I can definitely say I will miss you. Farewell lad. ~Arthur Kirkland_

Normally Alfred wouldn't believe in a short, shallow letter but judging on the quantity of notes inside this person had to be serious. After reading in the shade for 30 minutes the letters have developed considerably.

_Alfred, after talking with your brother I think that you and I could have been good friends. We have the same taste in music._

_Al, these bloody wankers get me so frustrated sometimes…_

_I think I've figured out why I write to you...I think I really like you. It breaks my heart that I can never tell you this…_

Alfred was shocked after reading the confession, it was so sudden and unexpected. _Heh...I could see myself with a guy like this._ That's when he spotted a blonde, emerald eyed teen trotting towards him. The moment he knelt down by the tombstone confirmed that he was the one.

"Hey." Alfred said as he stood above Arthur.

"A-A-Al...I mean, Alfred? Wait, where did you find that?" pointing to the letter box, defensively.

"The name's Riley Wickes now... Don't you have something to tell me?"

That's when Arthur flew into his arms attacking him with a strong hug. It felt like lovers were being reunited.

_Yup, I can seriously see myself falling for this guy._


	19. 19th of September

**ARTIST: Em (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr)  
**

**AUTHOR: Black Rose Authoress**

**19th of September, 2014 - Talk Like a Pirate Day**

He's been blindfolded. And his arms have been wrenched around what he can feel is a ship's mast, his wrists bound tightly together with rope that bites into his skin. He isn't sure how long he's been sitting here, gritting his teeth together in an attempt to fight back the natural urge to shout at his captors. They've already threatened to gag him once already.

He's listening as carefully as possible. People are walking around him, although no one seems to be paying him much mind. He'd guess that there's probably someone sitting nearby to guard him, but nobody else stops or slows near him.

Until this exact moment. He lifts his head at the differing sound, the thud of heavier footsteps and a sort of jingling that grows louder until it stops right in front of him.

"Alfred F. Jones." The voice is authoritative and Alfred can guess without seeing that _this_ must be the captain of the ship he's been spirited onto. "Prizefighter extraordinaire. What does the 'F' stand for?"

"Don't know, sir." He manages to keep his voice light. "My mama never told me."

The captain doesn't respond for a moment, then his whatever-it-was jingled again and there's the sound of clothing rustling before the voice came from much closer, "Do you know why I ordered my men to bring you aboard my ship, Alfred F. Jones?"

Nope, he honestly has no idea. And he's pretty pissed about it.

He suddenly feels something metal and extremely cold brush against his cheek, almost like a lover's caress. Then it's flicked back and the blindfold falls away from his eyes.

And he's half-blinded by the sun. He has to blink a few times to focus on the face in front of him.

The guy looks young for a pirate captain is the first thought that goes through his mind. And he knows that this guy is a pirate captain, because that's the only thing he could possibly be with that hat. Plus his crew had kind of kidnapped Alfred while he was walking from his last match of the night, so pirate it was. He looks like he's only in his early-twenties or so. With the biggest, blondest eyebrows that Alfred has ever seen in his life.

"No idea, sir," Alfred responds, still keeping his tone nonchalant. "Nobody thought to explain it to me before they tried grabbing me."

The only reason they'd succeeded in grabbing him was because one of them had cracked him across the back of the head with something hard, _painful_, and metallic. And that had been after he'd already taken out five guys, most of them armed.

"It is because I am a collector. And I collect only the best." His voice is kind of creepily soothing, if that makes any sense. He grins, though, and his grin pretty plainly states that this guy is _insane_. "And you, my dear Alfred F. Jones, managed to defeat my best fighter."

Alfred has no idea what he's talking about, but he's pretty sure that he's pretty much _fucked._


	20. 20th of September

**AUTHOR: Pepper's Ghost**

**20th of September, 2014 - ****On The Road Again**

"No. Absolutely not. I am not getting into that death contraption, Alfred, and you cannot make me."

It was a car – an old Ford roadster - haystack yellow with a black convertible top and wood wheel spokes. It sat innocently enough in the driveway waiting to take the two men to places unknown.

"Come on Arthur! It'll be fun," said America. He'd saddled up to the car and was affectionately patting the hood while shooting England a pleading look. "A nice fall drive. You and me. The open road."

England was having none of it. He stood resolute, arms crossed, frowning at America.

"Aren't you always telling me to smell the roses?" continued America without a care given to England's posture. "So lets go for a nice cruise through the countryside and see all the pretty fall colors. Maybe stop at a fruit stand or something and get a treat."

"Well that's all fine and good but seriously Alfred, your Model A?" said England.

"I'll have you know I've taken great care of this car!" America said. His loose posture had vanished. The car stroking had stopped. Even if it was England no one was going to bad-talk his baby. "That's even the original paint and upholstery."

"Great. So you want us to sit on poorly covered springs for however long it is until you get bored of this venture and bring us home," said England. He shot the car another scathing glance but adamantly avoid the upset American's eyes.

"Look," said America with a sigh. He ran his hands through his hair and swallowed. "If you didn't want to leave the house you coulda just said no." After a pause. "I dressed up and everything."

The remainder caused England to again enjoy the form before him – a nice button down with a form fitted vest and even an old driving hat. England hadn't seen the likes of those clothes on America in a good long while. America did look quite dapper in them. It would be a shame to waste such an effort.

"Alright fine," said England. He chose to ignore the fist pump and not so subtle victorious 'yes' the other gave. "But you had better not expect me to crank."

"Nope!" said America climbing in the drivers seat. "I splurged when I got this baby! Electric starter and everything." His last word was punctuated by the car door slamming.

As America busied himself with starting the car England prattled on about the turn of events, "To be honest I would have thought you'd've gotten something more flashy than just this Model A. What ever happened to your Locomobile?"

"I love that car," said America as the Ford rattled to life. America patted the wheel and the pair started out down the driveway.

"Does this even have proper turn signals?" England said as they pulled onto the main road.

"Course – totally street legal and insured," said America.

"So when this explodes on us, I can sue you."

"You wouldn't."

"I just might."

They drove on through beautiful fall scenery.

England didn't even protest when America threw his arm around him as they vibrated down the road.

"So why the sudden interest in taking this old car out?" England said. He discreetly tried to snuggle with the warm American. "Simple joy rides are not something done in this day and age anymore."

It was quiet for a few moments. England could see the other searching for something, pensive look on his face, before it lit up with an answer.

"Pit stop!" America said. Apparently not the answer England was looking for.

The car swerved violently to the left and into a small dirt parking lot.

"What the hell Alfred!?" England said. He ignored how the momentum of the turn had smashed them even closer together.

Both sloshed forward as America slammed on the breaks in a parking spot.

"Best. Cookies. Ever!" said America. He clutched England's shoulders and gave a little squeeze before he scrambled out of the car and was lost among the baked goods. England just sighed and slowly made his way behind his companion.

The quaint little fruit stand was nice enough and had quite the variety of goods available. England dabbled among the bins of apples seeing if they had some of the unique varieties you couldn't get at the store.

America blustered toward him. "Sample. Try," said America. He shoved some fudge in England's mouth before rushing away again.

England chuckled at the other's enthusiasm. America was all over everything at the stand.

The pair came away with some apples, cookies for America and a caramel apple for England.

As soon as the cookies were demolished, America began eyeing England's caramel apple.

"You want a bite before all the caramel is gone?" said England.

"Yes please."

"Just keep your eyes on the road," England said. He scooted closer to America and dangled the treat by America's mouth allowing the other to take an enormous caramel-covered bite.

"You never answered my question before we stopped," said England.

"Wha'stha'?" America said licking caramel out of his teeth. England had his full attention though.

"Or how about why there was another Model A at the fruit stand?" England continued. "This type of car is not your daily driver anymore."

"Didn't I tell you? It's International Model A Ford Day. Gotta show the pride of ownership!" said America.

"Do Americans make holidays for everything?"

"No. Just the important stuff like Thanksgiving and Labor Day and Mother's Day and Pie Day and Earth Day and Aviation Day and Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day and – "

"And that last one is not a holiday!" said England.

"It's August 8th…I celebrate every year."

"Really."

"Really really … There're only so many different things you can do with zucchini … Gotta spread the love around you know."

"So the only reason for this mad venture was to celebrate this holiday?"

"And to spend time with you Arthur!"

"We are not having sex in this car."

"Drat. I'll just have to settle for holding you close the rest of the trip."

"How chivalrous. Now let me enjoy the rest of my apple and these views in peace."

The pair snuggled close for the remainder of their nice afternoon drive.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Happy International Model A Ford Day! This random but fun holiday has been going on for a few years but is usually on the third Saturday of September. I always figured that America would manage to accumulate a lot of stuff – including vehicles. Most people are familiar with Ford Model As (and Model Ts) but the Locomobile that England refers to is a bit more off the beaten track. When you could buy a Ford for around $300-400 depending on the extras you got, each Locomobile was essentially a obscenely expensive "hand crafted, one off" car instead of an assembly line car that cost in excess of $1,500 or more. It is very much _Grapes of Wrath_ vs. _The Great Gatsby_ in terms of vehicles. If you want to see photos of each of the cars in mind please visit my tumblr. Also, if you didn't know fruit stand snobbery being a thing, it is…I am fortunate to live in an area where going to the store to buy fruit is looked down upon because to be honest it doesn't taste very good and you're not supporting the local community. So the whole situation is both good and bad.


	21. 21st of September

**AUTHOR: justa-fangirl**

**21st of September, 2014 - Showdown at the Battle Chateau: Part 1**

It had all started when Gilbert burst into the Pokémon Centre in Camphrier Town one evening, with a wild gleam in his deep red eyes.

"Al, you _have_ to go to the Battle Chateau! It's totally awesome!"

"Dude, I told you this morning: _no_. Why would I go to somewhere called the '_Battle Chateau_'? You can't have real battles in a fancy castle. I'm a serious Pokémon Trainer, and that just sounds like a joke."

"Oh, it's a joke all right, but people like you and me can make out like bandits from this thing."

Now, _that_ had caught Alfred's attention. No travelling Pokémon Trainer could turn down an opportunity to make some easy money.

"…Go on."

Gilbert spent the rest of the night detailing his adventures at the Battle Chateau that day, which sounded just as pretentious and stupid as Alfred had always suspected.

"It's full of rich, spoiled brats who get their daddies to buy them pretty, rare Pokémon, and then get famous breeders to train their team for them," Gilbert explained. "I doubt these kids actually spend _any_ time raising their Pokémon themselves, and they have no idea how to battle properly – but they still go around calling themselves Pokémon Trainers. I know it sounds depressing, but this is all great news for Trainers like us! These kids have no concept of the value of money. They're all from rich old families and they never have to think about how much things cost, so they just throw prize money away like it's nothing! I earned more prize money today than I have in the past four months!"

And it was that sentence alone that brought Alfred to the Battle Chateau the very next morning: an ostentatious stone castle in the middle of a small lake. The sight actually made Alfred feel a little sick, it was so ridiculous and over the top.

Alfred crossed the drawbridge over the water and marched through the grand castle doors. A butler greeted him in the entrance and Alfred showed the letter of invitation Gilbert had given him to get in. Exactly where Gilbert had gotten this exclusive letter Alfred hadn't dared ask, but it seemed to do the trick for Alfred was allowed inside and told there were currently eight other 'Trainers' inside the chateau willing to battle.

Alfred wandered around the fancy corridors, peeping into open doorways and finding nothing but empty rooms full of elaborate sofas and expensive looking artwork. It seemed this so-called "Battle Chateau" was really little more than a glorified hang out spot for the bored and elite.

Finally, in a small study lined with bookshelves, Alfred stumbled upon a potential contender. He was a boy about Alfred's age, with ash blond hair and thick dark eyebrows that scowled in the intruder's direction.

"Who are you and how did you get in the Battle Chateau?" the boy demanded in an accent that Alfred tried to ignore. He couldn't let himself go all weak-kneed over some stuck-up rich kid.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones and I have a letter of invitation," Alfred returned smugly, whipping out the paper and thrusting it in the other boy's face.

The boy looked up at Alfred over the letter with a deadpan expression. "That's clearly a forgery."

"…Well, I did not know that," Alfred countered (though inwardly he wasn't surprised at all).

The boy eyed Alfred suspiciously for a few long, silent moments, and Alfred had the distinct impression that he was being weighed up. For some reason it made him feel nervous and embarrassed, though he felt he had no reason to feel ashamed or guilty around a spoiled brat like this. This was the kind of person Alfred hated most – someone who used Pokémon as tools and status symbols instead of friends and teammates.

"So, are we battling or not?" the boy asked suddenly.

Alfred hadn't been expecting that, and he blinked in surprise for a second. "Really? Even though my letter's fake?"

"Yes, you'll get kicked out as soon as someone else catches you," the boy nodded sagely. Then he looked up and fixed Alfred with a pair of eager green eyes. "So we'd better make this quick, hadn't we?"

A smirk spread slowly across Alfred's face. "Oh, it will be."

The boy, who introduced himself as Arthur Kirkland, led Alfred outside into the pretty, manicured gardens, and found them a nice open area with ample space for a Pokémon battle.

"I only have one Pokémon with me today, so we'll just do a single battle, if that's all right with you?" Arthur asked, as he unclipped the shiny PokéBall from his belt.

"It's up to you, you're the one who's going to get thrashed," Alfred taunted from the other side of their makeshift battle arena. "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Kirkland? I'm a _real_ Pokémon Trainer, and I won't hold back on you."

Arthur smirked at him from the other side of the pitch.

"I hope I can handle it."

The two Trainers sent their PokéBalls flying into the grassy ring, and two birds exploded out into the sky. Alfred's magnificent eagle-like Braviary soared up into the sky, stretching his wings and doing a quick spiral dive before returning to hover over Alfred's side of the pitch (he was always a bit of a show-off, much like his Trainer). On the other side, an elegant white swan-looking Pokémon was doing graceful loops above its Trainer's head. It appeared that it had a black mark over one eye, but as Alfred looked closer he realised it was an eye patch.

"A Swanna?" Alfred laughed. "I'll admit, the eye patch is a nice touch, but isn't it still kind of a girly Pokémon?"

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed into a menacing glare. "If you think being a girl is something to be ashamed of, then you can leave right now."

Alfred hung his head guiltily, shame piercing him like a knife.

"You're right. I'm really sorry."

He was embarrassed of his stupid comment, but more than that, Alfred was upset that he'd made himself look foolish in front of Arthur. For some reason, he wanted to impress the other boy – he wasn't exactly the kind of Trainer Alfred had been expecting from the Battle Chateau. Though the proof of that would be in the battle.

"After you then, Kirkland."

After only a few moves, it was obvious that the two bird Pokémon were extremely well-matched.

Swanna's water moves were fierce and accurate, striking Alfred's Braviary even as he swooped and dived cleverly, almost knocking him out of the air a few times. Their flying moves were equally strong, Swanna with the advantage of speed to escape Braviary's powerful attacks, and Braviary with a tough defence that helped him endure the other Pokémon's hits.

Alfred hadn't had such an exciting or even battle in ages, and for the first time he could remember he actually found himself enjoying the thrill of it. Usually, he was so determined to win that whenever he faced defeat he grew cold and serious, a completely different person to the excitable Alfred who battled for the sheer joy of it.

Somehow, competing with Arthur didn't feel scary. If he lost, he knew he wouldn't feel ashamed or pathetic like he usually did. He didn't know why that could be, but as he looked over at Arthur, urging on his Pokémon in the sky above them with a smile on his face and a familiar passion in his eyes, Alfred couldn't bring himself to feel any resentment towards the other Trainer. Arthur wasn't like the other Battle Chateau members – he was like Alfred.

"Stop the battle! Stop it this _instant_!"

The two Trainers and their Pokémon all turned as one towards the source of the shouting, and found several angry-looking guards marching towards them, led by the butler from the chateau entrance.

"That's him!" he called, pointing at Alfred. "The one with the forged letter that weirdo from yesterday was wielding around! Seize him!"

_To be continued..._


	22. 22nd of September

**AUTHOR: justa-fangirl**

**22nd of September, 2014 - Showdown at the Battle Chateau: Part 2**

Alfred's stay at the Battle Chateau was over, and he only just had time to call Braviary back into its PokéBall before he found himself being apprehended by two stern guards.

"_Excuse me_! We were in the middle of a battle!" Arthur exclaimed furiously, zapping Swanna back into its PokéBall as he stormed over.

"Master Kirkland," said the butler, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "What a surprise to find _you_ consorting with this riff-raff. I'm afraid this man is a trespasser and he shall be banned from the Battle Chateau for life."

"No, he shall stay as my guest!" Arthur ordered, a fire in his bright green eyes. "I'll write him a letter of invitation. I am a member of this club, and I demand – "

The butler laugh coldly, and Arthur's mouth turned down into a dark scowl.

"We all know you are not in a position to demand anything," the butler said, his tone cold and biting. "You are here only by the grace of your father's chequebook, and I'm sure he would be more than happy to have your membership revoked if we had any more complaints about you. I highly doubt that you would be missed here, so don't expect any other club members to fight your corner with you."

Alfred watched the sinister exchange in stunned silence. He couldn't believe the chateau employees – grown adults, at that! – would treat the young Trainer this way.

He wanted to encourage Arthur, to tell him that he was better than these losers and to forget about the stupid Battle Chateau club. But before he could form the words, Alfred found himself being yanked away by the guards. He looked over his shoulder, desperate to catch Arthur's attention, but the other boy was staring down at the ground, defeated.

Alfred was escorted back inside the castle and down some long corridors, and before he could figure out a plan of action, he was pushed out onto the drawbridge and told never to return. He staggered forward, and only just had time to whirl back around in a panic before the great front doors slammed shut in his face. He stared up at the looming castle, his heart twisting excruciatingly in his chest.

It wasn't the loss of all that promised prize money he was worried about. He just couldn't believe Arthur was gone – whisked out of Alfred's life as unexpectedly as he'd arrived.

But there was nothing he could do. Arthur had gotten in trouble because of Alfred and probably didn't want to see him again, so there was no point waiting to catch him on his way home.

Just thinking about Arthur was painful, so Alfred decided to give it up and forget today ever happened. It might take a while, but it was better than giving himself false hoping and waiting around forever for a reunion that would never happen.

So Alfred turned his back on the castle and set off across the bridge, grabbing his bicycle on the other side of the lake and hopping on for the journey back to town.

"Alfred! Wait!"

Alfred nearly fell of his bike as he whipped his head around to see Arthur running across the bridge towards him. The other boy stopped, panting, before him.

"May I...walk with you?"

An eager smile, full of relief, burst to life on Alfred's life, and he jumped off his bicycle. Arthur returned his smile shyly, and the pair set off down the country road back to town, walking side by side in the late afternoon sunshine.

"You're too good for this place," Alfred said, suddenly. Arthur stared at him, and Alfred stammered in embarrassment. "I-I mean, too good a Pokémon Trainer. You should be out there where the real challenges are."

Another silence enveloped them for a while until Arthur spoke up again.

"I know I don't fit in around here, but that doesn't mean I could cut it as a real Trainer like you. I thought about it…a lot…but my family told me it was stupid. And they were right.

"Battling at the chateau is one thing, but going out into the world to make my fame and fortune from Pokémon training is just…not me. I'm not as independent as you are. I may not get along with my family, but they've still always provided for me. I'd be nothing without them. I wouldn't even have my Swanna. I know I didn't get an expensive, rare Pokémon like my brothers, and they only picked up Ducklett for free from the breeder because it had a bad eye and nobody wanted it - but I still owe them for that."

"Dude…" Alfred said gravely, looking sympathetically at Arthur as the other turned to him briefly with listless eyes. "You don't have to take that. I know your parents pay for things for you, but you're their kid: they're _supposed_ to provide for you. They're not doing you some massive favour by _not_ neglecting you! If they still treat you like you don't belong then you don't have to force yourself to be grateful."

Arthur looked back to Alfred with wet eyes, and Alfred's heart went right out to him.

"You should come with me."

Alfred didn't realise what he'd said until Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. But as the words registered, Alfred realised he wanted this more than anything. He stopped walking, gripping the handlebars of his bike with nerves and hope.

"You can _do_ it Arthur. I'm a decent Pokemon Trainer – I have the Gym Badges to prove it – and I met my match in that battle with you. If this is how far you've come already, despite being confined to that stupid Battle Chateau…you'll be amazing if you get out there and don't let anyone one hold you back! I know you still care about your family, despite everything, and you don't want to disappoint them, I guess. But if they don't want you to do what you love…how can you owe them your future? I know it's scary to just up and leave, but I'll be right here with you. W-we don't have to stick together our whole journeys, if you don't want to…But I can help you get started. And there's nobody better to teach you how to be independent!" he added with a beaming smile.

Arthur kept staring, his face frighteningly lank and unreadable. Alfred was just beginning to think he had made an eternal fool of himself, the smile slipping ever so slowly from his face, when Arthur breathed out slowly, as if he had been holding his breath this entire time.

"Okay."

Alfred froze, in stunned disbelief.

"R-really?!"

Arthur nodded, a smile growing on his face that was soon mirrored on Alfred's.

"My family will think I'm just running away with a bit of rough, but I doubt they'll be overly bothered."

"Well, it will be a bit rough at times, but you won't regret it!" Alfred promised brightly, completely misunderstanding Arthur's comment. Arthur blushed, but the smile didn't fade from his face.

The rest of the walk back was full of frantically excited chatter as they made plans, organised routes, and learnt more about each other. It was one of the greatest afternoons of Alfred's life, and he knew he wouldn't regret asking Arthur to be his travelling companion. Even if they ended up parting ways someday, he could tell by the exhilarated smile on Arthur's face that he needed to get away like this, and Alfred was glad he could help.

They parted at the fountain in the heart of Camphrier Town, with a promise to meet there again tomorrow at sunrise.

And tonight it was Alfred's turn to burst into the Pokémon Centre, grabbing Gilbert by the shoulders and talking a mile a minute.

"Let me get this straight," said Gilbert, trying to make sense of Alfred's rambling. "Some snobby Battle Chateau kid said he'd up and leave his cushy life to go travelling with a total stranger?"

"Arthur's not 'some snobby rich kid!'" Alfred argued. "He's one of _us_. And, I mean, it's not like we decided to go travelling together _forever_," Alfred added, a blush on his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'm just helping him become independent. I'm sure we'll go our separate ways once he's got the hang of things."

Gilbert eyed Alfred suspiciously. Oh, there was _so_ much more going on than Alfred was admitting…

"And you're sure he wasn't just blowing you off in an elitist way – you know by lying to your face and telling you what to hear so they don't have to deal with the consequences?"

Alfred turned his nose up at such a suggestion. "He'll show. You'll see."

Gilbert highly doubted it, and, worried for his friend's poor, naïve heart, he accompanied Alfred to the fountain the next morning. He had been planning to head off to Lumiose City, in the opposite direction to Alfred, but when this 'Arthur' guy didn't show he should probably go with Alfred to Cyllage City so the poor boy wasn't left all alone.

But, to Gilbert's surprise, Arthur was already there at the fountain when they arrived the next morning, a smile lighting up his face as he spotted Alfred approaching. Alfred jumped off his bicycle, letting it crash to the ground as he ran the last few paces to Arthur and enveloped him in an unexpected hug.

And as the two new companions babbled excitedly about their journey ahead, Gilbert could see he wasn't needed here anymore. No matter what Alfred said, it was pretty obvious that he and Arthur wouldn't be parting ways any time soon.

This was obviously a match made in heaven.


	23. 23rd of September

**ARTIST: theconfusedartist (Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr.)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**23rd of September, 2014 - Battle for Britain**

Arthur hated the American pilots. He hated their brash boasts and reckless flying habits. He hated the clandestine recruitment program that had brought them over while their own nation was still proclaiming its neutrality. He hated how the Yankee flyboys were utterly convinced that it was their intervention alone that would prevent the German Air Force from gaining control of British skies, as if the Royal Air Force was helpless without them. Mostly he hated Alfred F. Jones, the most American pilot of them all.

"They say you're the best pilot here," the American had said with a grin when they first met. "Care to prove it?"

Thus had started their little competition to see who could take down the most German planes. They compared tallies at the end of each battle, leading the other pilots to place bets on who would win by the end of the war. Alfred was in the lead at the moment, though not by much.

Watching from the edge of the airfield, Arthur scanned the dawn skies for Alfred's return. He told himself that he wasn't worried. Their general lack of punctuality was just another reason why he hated the American pilots. So he certainly didn't breathe a sigh of relief when he saw Alfred's plane come into view on the dimly lit horizon.

Arthur knew that something was wrong as soon as he saw the plane's unsteady landing and the smoke billowing from its wing. Before he even had a chance to think, he was already racing toward the end of the runway. There was a strange pounding in his heart that he attributed to the smoke, even though he knew it had started as soon as he saw the damage to the plane. Meeting the plane as it shuddered to a stop, he leapt up onto the wing and pried open the cockpit.

"Hurry up!" Arthur shouted desperately as he pulled the dazed American onto the tarmac. They hadn't made it more than a dozen paces before the fuel tanks caught fire, and the resulting blast knocked them both to the ground.

Despite the ringing in his ears, Arthur could hear shouts in the distance. The hard concrete was going to leave bruises on his side, but it was the arm he had wrapped around the other man's warm body that felt strange and tingly. He scrambled to his feet and led Alfred away from the burning wreckage as others arrived to put out the fire. The young American looked dazed, but otherwise unharmed. "Are you okay?" Arthur asked once they were outside the danger zone. They sat down on some crates lying at the end of the runway.

"Yeah," Alfred replied, his voice a little shaky. "It's a shame about Valerie."

Arthur stayed with him as he watched firefighters douse the airplane. Both could see that the plane was gone beyond repair, destined only for the scrap heap. At that point, Arthur realized that he still had his arm wrapped around the other man's waist. He quickly retracted it and gave Alfred an awkward pat on the shoulder. "She was a good fighter," he agreed, aware of how much a pilot came to love his plane.

"You know, when she was hit, you were the first person that came into my mind," Alfred said in a subdued voice, still staring at the fiery wreck. "I imagined you yelling at me, 'This is royal property, Lieutenant Jones, and I expect it back in one piece!'" His poor imitation of an English accent brought a weak smile to Arthur's face. After a few moments of silence, Alfred added, "Though I didn't expect you to come running so quickly."

"Well, it'd be a shame to see a decent pilot go to waste," Arthur replied, equally nonchalant, though his heart clenched at the thought of _Alfred_ not coming back in one piece. The young American was staring at him intently, but it wasn't his usual look of obnoxious bragging or earnest rivalry. This was dangerous territory, and Arthur couldn't decide if he was elated or terrified. He settled for saying, "I think you owe me dinner."

"Dinner and a kiss goodnight?" Alfred suggested with his usual good humor, though some flicker in his gaze led Arthur to believe that it was a test, not a joke.

"We'll see how dinner goes first." Arthur stared out at the smoldering plane and added, "For the record, if you die or lose another plane, you lose our bet."

"Same to you," Alfred agreed, and Arthur saw a small smile spread across his face. Sitting side by side on the crates, they watched as dawn finally arrived. Despite the terrible war, Arthur felt a flicker of hope for the future.

By the end of the day, he admitted to himself that he did not actually hate Alfred F. Jones. Quite the opposite, in fact.


	24. 24th of September

**AUTHOR: Angie Garcia**

**24th of September, 2014**

Arthur walked around with his green balloon. Everything he saw was just black and white, white and black. The only color in his dull world was his grass green balloon and his emerald eyes.

That's all.

He kept on walking and walking. His destination?

Away.

Away from this dull world. Where everything was ugly and plain, where nothing was unique or attractive. Everything was just black and white. And that was disturbing to poor twelve year old Arthur.

Scary, at times. Frightening, even.

You see, little innocent Arthur was cursed when he was born, by who, no one knows. Some say it was the poor boy's mother's fault, who supposedly had an affair with the husband of a spell casting gypsy. Others started to rumor that his father conjured demons to do his bidding, and that the reward for the demons were the colors that his son possessed and could see. The ones who proposed a more 'reasonable' answer was that Arthur was just color blind.

Lies. Filthy lies.

Arthur's mother was a loyal woman, who was brutally murdered and burned because of mistaken identity to a prostitute. His father fell ill from lung cancer and died on his bed. The child was then given to a gypsy, who placed a spell on him, by mistake. She made an antidote but soon her head was the prize that the town wanted. The gypsy fled and was accused of leaving the child to die.

But the small town he lived in wanted spice, excitement. His story was not enough. So they started up lies about the poor boy, his deceased family, caretaker, and his condition.

And now his only friend is the balloon.

The balloon was the only object he could see with color, besides his eyes. So he carried that balloon everywhere he went, searching, hunting, praying for more colorful balloons. Arthur was destined to be 'color blind'. So he thought. And he was fine with that. Him and his green balloon.

Until the day before the carnival.

Arthur sat on a bench of a worn out, old, and black, bus stop. The rain was pouring down extremely hard, showing no mercy on the worn out orphan. Clutching his black and white newspaper blanket closer to himself, he tightened the green balloon, tied to his left wrist, with his teeth. The breeze blew harder as Arthur tried to hide under the torn up, worded, blanket.

As his eyes grew heavier and he couldn't fight off sleep, Arthur mentally prayed for his balloon to stay with him. His only source of color and inspiration.

And soon he entered his wonderful dreamland.

* * *

Arthur stood on a gray hill, wearing black suspenders, a white blouse, and dark gray shoes. Even his dreams were dull. As his grasp on his magical floating circle tightened, he stared forward. Until he saw a beautiful woman. She was gray, black, white, colorless. But her looks were well constructed.

"Come here baby. Come here my bouncing baby boy." She whispered.

Arthur gasped. It was his mother's voice. It was just...the voice was in the gypsy's body.

"Don't be afraid dearie. Come here."

Arthur ran, his balloon bobbing up and down, to his mother's open arms.

"Oh love how I missed you... You know one day you're going to see in color right?"

Arthur was about to open his mouth to say something, but then simply nodded.

"Baby, please speak. I'm lonely when I do not hear your voice. Speak. Please for your mother."

Arthur shook his head no, and continued to hug his mom, who began to whisper a lullaby.

Colors, colors, colors

Everywhere my dear.

Orange, pink,

Blue, green.

Many more to be seen.

You want to see color

Others than just black,

White and gray

So in your memories you must pack

The solution that will not lack

Find true love you see

Doesn't matter he or she

But love makes you see

Colors like red, blue, and green.

As his mother continued to sing the lullaby, Arthur snuggled against her and whispered his first sentence in years,

"I love you mommy."

* * *

Arthur woke up to the sound of faint water drops. Soon he started to walk towards a big carnival, hoping to find balloons with colors there.

As he walked over to the balloon section, he bumped into a boy with blue eyes, holding a blue balloon.

Wait. How could he see this color, let alone label it?

"Hi. I'm Alfred. I like balloons. Do you?"

Arthur nodded and said,

"I'm Arthur. I always had this balloon since I was eight. I'm twelve now."

"Woah. That's really cool! Hey my dad owns a balloon shop! You wanna go?"

"Sure!"

As the two boys entered the room Arthur felt like crying. All he saw was gray.

"Arthur? Are you ok?"

"N-No...I-I can't see the colors...I-I need to love someone to see them. Who would love me? A color blind child.."

Alfred hugged his new friend and whispered,

"I'm going to help you find love. Even it's the last thing I do. Because you're my new best friend."

* * *

In the end, Arthur did find love. With the boy Alfred. Their bond grew closer as each day passed, and when Alfred whispered 'I love you' to Arthur on a warm August day, Arthur was able to blink, open his eyes, and see the magical colors of the world. And the first thing he did with his discovery?

Blow balloons with his new lover Alfred.


	25. 25th of September

**AUTHOR: crashingavalanches**

**25th of September, 2014 - No Noise Needed**

"Did you know that Rosh Hashanah is also known as the Feast of Trumpets?"

Alfred blinked, his concentration broken as he looked up from his lecture notes over his coffee at his boyfriend who was staring at his computer screen. He shrugged as the picked up his nearly empty mug and walked to the coffee machine to get a refill. As he watched the dark liquid fill up the mug, he absentmindedly wondered what had prompted Arthur to start this conversation. The other blonde didn't like being interrupted when he was preparing for a lecture.

"No, I didn't. Why bring it up though?" questioned the theoretical physics professor as he walked over to join his boyfriend on the couch. He took a sip of his coffee and squinted at the laptop screen, trying to read the text on it while Arthur's fingers tapped keys rapidly, adding more information to the screen. After a few attempts to get past the second line of the Word document, Alfred gave up and resorted to playing with Arthur's hair after setting his coffee on the table.

"I was thinking why no one really refers to it as that anymore," responded Arthur as he unconsciously shifted back into Alfred's touch and pulled his laptop onto his lap, not ceasing his typing in the least. "According to the information I found online and in the library books, the real name of this 'Feast of the Lord', as they classify it, is actually Yom Teruah, literally translating into 'a day of shouting or raising a noise', and well, I think hardly any people know that anymore."

"Ah but you know it babe," murmured Alfred as he wrapped his arm loosely around the golden blonde's shoulders and leaned forward to pick his cup of coffee. "That makes you special."

He definitely did not expect his boyfriend to blush and shove him away gently. Arthur scooted to the other end of the couch and buried his face in a pillow, peeking over the top just so that he could continue typing.

"G-go back to your work."

The sentence was muffled by the pillow, but it was clear that Arthur was embarrassed by Alfred's words. Ever since they had started dating, Arthur had a tendency to blush and get thoroughly embarrassed whenever Alfred complimented him. Arthur Kirkland, the genius of the Culture and Traditions Study Department wasn't used to being praised or flattered despite being well-known and acknowledged for his wide contribution to research on traditions and cultures worldwide. He would turn red and stutter whenever someone paid him a word of praise, and these symptoms were amplified ten times when the person praising him was his boyfriend, Alfred F. Jones, the head of the Physics Department at the same university.

"Hmmm?" Alfred hummed before purposely sliding closer to the blushing blonde, hooking his ankle loosely over Arthur's as he set his mug down again. He stroked the back of his hand over Arthur's red face and smirked when the other jerked his face from his touch, glaring at him with large emerald eyes filled with a mix of pouting and resentment.

"There there babe," he dropped a kiss on Arthur's cheek before standing up and stretching, popping his joints after spending too long in his chair at the kitchen table. Without looking back at the other blonde, Alfred directed his next question at his boyfriend all the same.

"Speaking of which, Rosh Hashanah is today isn't it? Why not we take a break?"

"Breaks don't come easily Alfred, and we need to work," snapped Arthur waspishly as he resumed his frantic typing on his laptop, his blush still prominent. He jumped as his laptop was suddenly wrenched away from him and warm arms pulled him on top of a larger form and he came face to face with his lover, who was grinning widely in his face.

"Come on Artie," Alfred's voice had suddenly dropped to a husky, low tenor. "I'll blow your trumpet for you if you want."

It took Arthur a while to get the innuendo, but he got it and started stammering in broken English while trying to push himself off his hunk of a boyfriend. However, his efforts were futile as he was suddenly pulled so that the couple was spooning on the couch.

"I'm sorry Artie," sighed Alfred, carding a hand through Arthur's golden blond hair. Sighing quietly, Arthur turned so that he could nuzzle Alfred's chin as a sign of accepting Alfred's apology.

"We could still take a break though," Arthur frowned at his laptop before turning more to bury his face into Alfred's chest, breathing in his scent of honey and sunshine (no one believed him when he said Alfred smelled like that). "Hot chocolate and a movie would be nice."

"Well, we aren't going to make noise like the real name of the festival suggested," Alfred joked as he sat them up and kissed Arthur lightly on the lips. Smiling at his boyfriend, he swept him up bridal style before walking in the direction of the bedroom, pressing another kiss to Arthur's forehead.

"Just wait in bed, babe, I'll take care of everything. We're gonna have that break we deserve."


	26. 26th of September

**ARTIST: stephyhime (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr.)  
**

**AUTHOR: just-a-hetalia-fangirl**

**26th of September, 2014 - Arthur's Room of Requirement**

In an old wizarding family like the Kirklands, it only made sense that someone would have heard of the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, and passed down the secret to their favourite relatives.

Unfortunately for Arthur, he was nobody's favourite relative. He only knew about the room because an older cousin bragged about it to him once when he was little. The rumour of a magical dream room captured Arthur's interest, and it took him five years of favours and bribery before he got all the information he needed to open it.

When he finally tried it out for himself when he arrived at Hogwarts, he hadn't really been thinking of anything in particular as he walked back and forth in front of the blank stone wall. He only remembered how much work he'd had to put in to find out about the room, and hoping it made up for all the agonising years of sucking up to his cousins and brothers.

So it was only natural that the Room of Requirement would present itself as a secret hideaway just for Arthur. He'd never had his own room before, never had any privacy or a place all to himself – and now that he was at Hogwarts it was even worse! The sanctuary this room provided for him was just what Arthur had always wanted, and the moment he stepped inside, it felt like coming home.

The walls were lined with bookshelves and interesting trinkets, and the ceiling was decorated with a mural of the adventures of Merlin, Arthur's personal hero. A variety of comfy chairs were on offer – from a wingback leather seat to a woven hanging-chair dangling invitingly in the centre. But best of all was the window seat. The room had magically created a big round window, with a view that slowly circled the entire castle, and stretching the length of the window, looking almost like a bed, was a deep window seat covered in soft blankets and pillows.

It was perfect.

As the years went by and his essays and exams got harder, Arthur spent more and more time retreating to the Room of Requirement. He never told a soul about it, but it was only natural that somebody else out of the hundreds of students must have heard of the magical room.

It wasn't until Arthur's fifth year that he finally ran into anyone, though.

Arthur was nestled snugly amongst the cushions on the window seat reading a Muggle novel when he heard an unfamiliar creaking. A heavy, strained groan shattered the peace of his sanctuary and he looked up, startled to see the door opening inwards.

Arthur stared, frozen in place, as Alfred F. Jones, a fifth-year Hufflepuff, stepped into his Room of Requirement.

"What the…" Alfred muttered, glancing around in confusion at the bookshelves. He didn't seem to have noticed Arthur, but as Alfred turned to look at the round window, the boys' eyes met through the latticework of the woven hanging chair that was suspended between them, and Arthur knew he'd been spotted.

"Um…hello. This is the Room of Requirement," he said politely, wondering how best to ask Alfred to bugger off.

"Yeah…I know," the American replied. "One of the Professors told me about it. He said it would _ooooooooh_!"

Arthur quirked an eyebrow as Alfred trailed off into amazed silence, his cerulean eyes wide with realisation.

"That is _so cool_! I didn't realise it could make _people_, too!"

"I'm sorry?" Arthur asked, confused.

Alfred finally moved closer, rounding the hanging chair to stand in front of Arthur. He bent down to the other's eye level, and then leaned forward till they were almost nose to nose. Arthur shrank back in embarrassment, blushing.

"_Excuse_ me!" the Slytherin boy cried, indignantly.

"You look _amazing_! Can I touch you?"

"_WHAT_?!" Arthur spluttered, scrambling back even further to press himself against the wall.

Alfred just crowded in closer, eyes roaming all over Arthur's face and body. He reached out and put a hand on Arthur's knee, and his eyes lit up.

"This is incredible!"

Arthur opened his mouth to snap out a retort, but then Alfred smiled. Not his usual glistening, toothy grin, but such a sweet, warm look that it took Arthur by surprise and stole the words from his tongue.

"I didn't know what to expect but this room is so _you_. And I can't believe you're actually _here_! And so lifelike! This is…"

As suddenly as Alfred's smile had appeared, it was gone. The Hufflepuff boy's shoulders tensed, the sparkle in his eyes dimming to a guarded look, and the smile slowly fading from his lips into a serious frown that didn't suit him.

"This is dangerous magic," Alfred lamented. "The room is so perfect but...it's not true. If I stay in here with you, I might not wanna go back to reality - and I know it will never happen out there but I can't just choose this over the real Arthur..."

Arthur's indignation finally burst out of him at Alfred's strange ramblings.

"I _AM_ real!"

"...What." Alfred blinked, bemused.

Arthur's eyebrows scrucnhed up in frustration and confusion. "I was sitting here minding my own business and reading and you just barged in saying…_mental_ things!"

A dawning look of horror melted onto Alfred's face. He stood, unmoving, still nose to nose with Arthur, his hand still resting on the Slytherin's knee.

"What…what did you _think _was happening?!" Arthur demanded.

"I! …I thought! …"

Finally, Alfred jolted back to life, stumbling backwards away from Arthur, eyes darting everywhere but at the boy on the window seat. His face was bright red and if Arthur had been reading this scene in a book he'd have understood what it meant. But experiencing it for himself he just couldn't quite grasp it.

He sat upright, glare fierce as he stared down the poor Hufflepuff.

"The professor told me this room was magic and would turn into whatever you want," Alfred babbled.

"Exactly!" Arthur exclaimed. "You should have known this couldn't be _your_ dream room because why would _I_ be in your Room of Requirement?!"

In the split second it took Alfred's eyes to glance up and meet his, Arthur understood the answer to his question.

"Oh. Well, then…" he faltered.

An awkward pause followed, and Arthur found himself standing up and busily folding blankets and arranging the cushions on the window seat.

"I suppose I can leave if you want to have a look at your real Room of Requirement. Or…if you'd like…"

The words were out before Arthur could stop them, and he couldn't take them back now. Besides, Alfred looked so devastated after his embarrassing mistake that Arthur wanted to take pity on him. It wasn't like he was doing this for the Hufflepuff boy, it was just matter of politeness.

"You could stay here and…hang out?"

(In hindsight, he should have realised the danger of sharing his Room of Requirement with Alfred. Sadly, it only occurred to him five minutes later, when the Hufflepuff boy spotted the portraits of himself scattered along the bookshelves and asked Arthur why there would be dozens of pictures of him in the Slytherin's dream room.)


	27. 27th of September

**AUTHOR:**** Annzy Bananzy**

**27th of September, 2014 - Movie Night**

Arthur can get very involved with a story.

Everyone knows that when he's reading a book or watching a movie you might as well be talking to a brick wall for all he'll pay attention and respond to you. He's too busy investing himself in the characters - feeling what they feel and getting caught up in the excitement of plot development. He's always on the lookout for foreshadowing, and feels intensely proud when he finds out later on that he had successfully identified one. It doesn't matter what the genre is - he can become intrigued with any compelling plot, though his favorite is fantasy, supernatural, and magic, naturally.

With his intense reaction to any sort of story, he actually has to remind himself, when watching a movie at home with his boyfriend, to pay attention to how Alfred is reacting, too. Especially during a horror film.

When they had first watched one together, Alfred had held nothing back and screamed his head off, successfully tearing Arthur away from the movie to hug him and wipe his tears and whisper that everything will be all right, that it's just a movie, and that he's here to scare off any ghosts with his "wonderful" personality. Arthur had smiled when his little joke got Alfred to smile tearily and joke between post-crying gasps, "It is - pretty - scary some - times!"

Each time this "post horror movie freak out" happened seemed inevitable and expected at this point, but it never ceased to make Arthur feel like a terrible should be able to tear himself away from the movie to check on Alfred at least once in a while! Instead of focusing all of his attention on the bloody movie!

And yet, every time they watch a horror movie, Arthur forgets all about him unless he makes himself impossible to ignore. And, for some reason, the idiot's been trying harder and harder to cover up his reactions, which makes Arthur feel even worse during the aftermath. At least when Alfr ed had cried during the movie Arthur could comfort him immediately, ward away the nightmares, and feel that he was doing his job as a boyfriend, but now... He felt as if he would get fired.

Which is why, this time, Arthur had planned ahead and set an alarm on his phone. It would vibrate after fifteen minutes of their movie, reminding him to check on Alfred and comfort him before he gets too scared.

He smiled proudly to himself as he jolted from the alarm and turned it off. Finally! He could be a good boyfriend! He turned to Alfred, assessing how he was already shaking, biting his cheek to keep from screaming, and gripping the couch cushions so tightly that it looked as if he'd tear a hole in them at any moment. It was then that he realized...

Alfred was not going to accept his Arthur tried to do anything, he might just shove him away and lie by saying he's fine, so he'd have to take a different approach.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur scooted close and slowly dug his hand between the couch and Alfred's own, entwining their fingers. Alfred had jumped upon first contact, and looked over at him as if he was a ghost slithering his hand under his, but he calmed down a little after identifying his familiar Brit. Arthur gave what he hoped was a scared smile as he said, "Could you hold me, love? I'm a bit frightened..."

He didn't wait for Alfred to reply as he laid his head on the boy's shoulder, closing his eyes and snuggling a bit into it. It didn't take more than a second for Alfred to wrap his arms around him, practically pulling him onto his lap as they hugged and cuddled on the couch.

"... S-sure, babe..."

"Thank you." Arthur smiled and kissed his cheek, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck and craning his own head to continue watching the movie. Whenever he felt Alfred jump in his seat from the intensity if the film, he'd just snuggle in more and kiss him, muttering how he needed some comfort because of the "scary movie." He didn't stop until Alfred calmed down, and trust him when he says he didn't mind repeating the process multiple times in the next hour and a half. He had to watch movies like this more often.

When it was finally over, Arthur saw no reason not to settle into Alfred and lean his head in his shoulder with his eyes closed. "Thank you, love," he mumbled sincerely. He did very much enjoy the excuse to be so close to him. He didn't even mind if he'd get teased for it later.

Instead if a "you're welcome" and a joke about him being such a snuggly scaredy cat like he'd expected, however, he heard, "... Arthur, I'm not an idiot."

He snapped his eyes open and looked up at him, feeling something twist in his stomach when he still saw tears brimming on Alfred's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You don't get scared by this stuff," Alfred mumbled, sighing and running a hand through his hair. His eyes shone with melancholy, making Arthur frown. "You were just doing this for me..."

"So what?" Arthur knew there was no point in denying the truth, instead just pressing his forehead to Alfred's and whispering, "I don't like to see you so upset afterwards."

"Damn it!" Alfred ground his teeth together and closed his eyes, the tears building more. "I want you to enjoy these movies! Not have to worry about me!"

"Alfred, calm down." Arthur smiled sympathetically, lifting a hand up to stroke his cheek softly. "I don't mind -"

"No!" Alfred yelled, placing his hand over Arthur's on his face and looking straight into his eyes. The clear blue was intense with anger and sorrow mixed together, effectively capturing Arthur's attention and making his breath hitch. "I know you love focusing on movies and books and stuff, and I love watching the look you get on your face when you're really in the zone, and I want you to enjoy scary movies with me the same way!"

"..." Arthur felt very warm now, which he was sure was showing through his cheeks. It was just... Very flattering to know that Alfred had identified a certain look on his face whenever he was focused on a story, and loved it, apparently. How, how often would he have had to look at him to identify that?!

"But you can't do that while I'm being a baby!" Alfred continued, frowning and looking away as he tried to blink back tears. "I'm sorry..."

Arthur felt at a loss for words, so he simply leaned his head over to capture Alfred's lips in a kiss, tightening his arms around his neck and pressing closer when Alfred tightened his own hold around his waist.

"I really don't mind at all," he repeated again, whispering against his lips, chuckling. "If the price I have to pay for you to not wake up screaming or have nightmares is cuddling and kissing during a scary movie, I hardly see the reason you need to apologize for anything."

"... I..." Alfred blinked, suddenly looking very sheepish. "I guess, but... It's still embarrassing as hell having to be coddled for something that doesn't even phase you."

"We all have our fears," Arthur told him with another quick kiss. "You shouldn't feel embarrassed, all right? I'm not making fun of you..." He smiled warmly, nuzzling his nose against Alfred's. "I just don't wish to see my boyfriend so upset if I can help it."

Alfred giggled a bit, happily rubbing back and relaxing against him. "... Thanks, Artie."

"You're welcome, Alfy."


	28. 28th of September

**AUTHOR: seecarrun**

**28th of September, 2014 - ****A Sudden Realization**

It had all started with a seemingly casual remark one Friday afternoon.

"Will you be joining us tonight for a sleepover tonight, Alfred?" Kiku asked, as he, Arthur, and Alfred walked out to the parking lot after school.

Alfred shook his head, taking on a small grin as he went to unlock his car. "Nah, not this time, boys. I got a hot date with a pretty lady tonight!" He threw his backpack into the back seat and turned back to his friends. "You sure you dudes don't need a ride home? You're place is on my way."

"We will be just fine, thank you very much," Arthur snapped, and that should ave been the end of it.

Should have.

"Can you believe that narcissistic wanker? 'I've got a hot _bloody_ date tonight!' _What?_! So the plonker gets to first base once, and now he's Brad _fucking_ Pitt?!"

Kiku nibbled at his pizza silently, letting the Brit do his thing, too fearful to do much of anything else.

"And another thing! Who would even go out with a twat like Alfred?! The bloke isn't even _attractive!_ He's like, this big, loud toddler that runs around and ruins everyone's good time." He scoffed, at this point sawing his pizza with his knife so hard he had just about cut all the way through his paper plate.

"Ah, Arth-"

"And when did he even find this bird to go on a date with him?!" He asked suddenly, cutting Kiku off. "We have five bloody classes together! The only girl I saw him talking to today was Mrs. fucking Karpusi!"

"Arthur!"

Arthur, finally acknowledging that Kiku was indeed still there, blinked owlishly. "What is it?"

Kiku flushed, bowing apologetically. "I am sorry to raise my voice." He glanced up at Arthur and wrung his hands. "I also apologize if this is out of line, but have you ever considered that you may..._.like_ Alfred?"

"What?!"

"It was just an observation!" Kiku rushed to apologize, but as with most things tonight apparently, Arthur wasn't ready to let it go.

"_Like_ Alfred?!" he gasped, barking out one loud, sarcastic laugh. "As in, _romantically_?! That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard! Where- where would you even get such a stupid idea?"

Kiku, clearly uncomfortable, cleared his throat. "Well, you are awfully upset about Alfred being on a date..."

"What?! Th-that doesn't mean anything!" Arthur cried. "I mean," he snorted, "s-so what if I get a bit irritated when I think about him on a date?! That doesn't... I-It doesn't mean... I..."

Kiku winced, watching with sympathy as the realization seemed to finally fully sink in as Arthur's eyes widened.

"I-I...O-oh no. No. No...no... no no _no no_..."

"Arthur?" Kiku asked carefully.

But Arthur was beyond the point of no return.

"I- I _like_ _Alfred._"


	29. 29th of September

**AUTHOR: Empress Vegah**

**29th of September, 2014 - It Might Be You**

**(Note: This is a partner drabble for 'Saved the Best for Last')**

"_I'm sorry Alfred. I… I don't love you."_

And yet another heartbreak for Alfred F. Jones.

He didn't even know how many times he had believed this latest person was _the one._ All his life, he just wanted somebody who would love him the way he wanted to be loved – somebody whom he could share his life with forever. But now he felt like an absolute idiot for _believing_ every single time. The words rang around his head as he walked out from the café (Starbucks, of all places) where his heart got broken yet again. At least Natalya was honest enough to tell him two weeks into their relationship. Well, he actually didn't know if it was kind of her to lead him on just to make Ivan jealous. He also didn't know if her plan was effective at all.

_Naïve fool_, that was what Arthur would tell him once they see each other. He felt a lump stuck on his throat. What could he say to Arthur this time?

'_Hi, Arthur. It seems that my heart just got broken yet again. I think I need you right now.' _As if that would work out perfectly. Arthur would have another lecture for him once he heard his latest romance woes. But only after comforting his sad, broken heart. As usual.

Sometimes, he wondered why Arthur never got fed up with him. He always kept crawling back to his best friend, bringing his broken heart for Arthur to mend. Every single time.

The tall American could only keep the humor his situation brought him for a little while before his mood spiraled downwards, and the heartbreak that he was intellectualizing moments ago now felt so real he couldn't understand why it would always hurt this much. He should be used to this, right?

Alfred was vaguely aware where his feet were talking him. Even the weather seemed to sense his mood, and the dark skies opened and poured rain all over the city, drenching him and the pavement he was walking on. He welcomed the cold as much as he welcomed the rain, so maybe he could pretend that the wetness on his face was because of the rain alone.

But when Alfred found himself knocking on a very familiar door, he knew that whoever opened it would give him the comfort he badly needed right now. He could take any lecture from Arthur, as long as the man was there. His best friend. The one whom he could be with at his weakest point, and yet never rejected him.

Seeing Arthur's worried face lit something within Alfred, but it was overpowered by the comfort he felt when Arthur guided him inside his house. He felt like a child when Arthur dried his hair off, and he subconsciously noted that maybe his misery reflected in his eyes because Arthur's tone changed and he pulled him into his arms. The embrace was awkward because of their height, but that simple gesture opened the gates of his heart and he cried against Arthur's shoulder, telling him everything that had happened that day.

He felt Arthur's hold on him tightened, rubbing soothing on his back, and somehow Alfred knew that Arthur wouldn't leave him.

The distraction Arthur offered worked like magic. In the middle of the night, when they were huddled in bed together, Alfred lay awake as he listened to Arthur's soft breathing. Somehow the pain had lessened – it didn't hurt as much, and he shifted his eyes to look at Arthur's sleeping face.

Arthur was his best friend of eleven years. They had been through a lot, and yet they were still together like this. Arthur had been there for him all these years. And even if Arthur lectured him about his habits and bad decisions, he never did leave. Alfred never felt rejected.

All Alfred wanted was someone he could share his life with.

Blue eyes widening in realization as the pieces finally, finally fell into place, Alfred stared back at Arthur's sleeping face, as if seeing him for the first time, as if all his life's questions were answered in that single moment.

Alfred left Arthur's home feeling even more hopeful, but he had to be sure that it wasn't just the pain of losing someone yet again made him think of _that_ possibility.

USUK

Three months had passed by, and Alfred had thoroughly assessed himself and his feelings within those months. And he was certain that everything he ever wanted in life was found in that person.

This time, he was sure of his feelings. This wasn't a quick jump into a relationship. Alfred had reflected a lot, something which he didn't often do, but for _him_, he would.

But his confidence for his own feelings weren't a match for the uncertainty he felt towards Arthur's answer as he lay his head on his best friend's lap, thinking of ways to tell him of his epiphany and the little request that could change both of their lives — positively or negatively, Alfred would never know. Unless he asked.

Taking a deep breath, he got up from Arthur's lap and sat up, facing Arthur. His best friend looked at him, obviously wondering what the seriousness was all about, though he didn't see a little bit of fear in those irises. Hoping that somehow everything would end well, Alfred looked into the lovely green eyes and said, "I found the one I would spend my life with." His voice was firm, yet laced with nervousness. He took his phone and tapped his screen to life, showing Arthur his personal favorite picture of the Brit.

"Arthur, I…" Alfred swallowed and squeezed Arthur's hand. "I haven't realized that I've loved you all these years. You are the one I rely on, the one I fully trust, and the one I've shared all my dreams with. Arthur, will you… Will you let me love you?"

All his best friend gave him was a nod before his arms were full of Arthur Kirkland, squeezing his middle so hard he almost couldn't breathe. But that was okay.

He had Arthur to share his life with.


	30. 30th of September

**AUTHOR: towerofart**

**30th of September, 2014 - Saving Him From the Ending**

Arthur was mixing up dough for scones when it happened.

The doorbell rang. Being the sensible wizard he was Arthur grabbed his staff from where it rested against the table before unlocking the door.

"Who are you and wha—" Who the hell was that?!

He was a very odd fellow for sure, dressed in the most insensible clothes. Honestly, this wasn't the West. There was no need for riding trousers, and certainly only the most dimly witted would walk around in such a brightly coloured shirt with no cloak. The man was smiling so much he looked as if he would burst from excitement at any moment.

"You don't know me, but my name is Alfred and I'm a HUGE fan of yours! You see, in the universe I come from you're a character in a book. I know how it all ends and it's bad. So I found a way here! I just want to try to change this story to a happy ending." The man rushed out all of his words in one breath.

Arthur stood rooted to his spot in confusion. "...W-what?"

"I come from an—"

"Don't say it again! Honestly, once was enough."

The two spent the next few minutes quietly watching each other. Every little move was carefully observed with a mix of curiosity, confusion, and awe. That is, until the strange man named Alfred blurted out, "...Can I come in?"

He must have been the most cheerful, clueless person Arthur had ever had the misfortune to meet. Honestly, no one was quiet or sincere these days. It was all courage and heroics.

The wizard sighed and started to reluctantly open the door wider so this strange new person could step inside his cluttered home; if only to point him toward the nearest town and send the man back out again. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let you—Hey! You can't just invite yourself into my house! Stop wandering off on—_THAT_ IS A VERY FRAGILE AND POWERFUL ARTIFACT. PUT IT _DOWN_."


End file.
